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jeminy3 · 5 years

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Our Winter Was Warm.

Originally written for a secret santa exchange on an FMA fandom server with my friends for Christmas 2018. Specifically for Ange, a sweetheart and lovely au/headcanon-jammer in regards to anything with Roy/Hughes/Gracia. They wanted Hyuroi fluff + Gracia, and we'd talked about Hughes wanting a 2nd child named Elias with either Gracia or trans man Roy (referenced in their fic here), so this seemed the best gift for them. Not published till now because of life shit + bonus drawings I've added.

My original summary: Secret Santa gift for Ange. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I did the fluffiest hyuroigracia I could think of - married and having a baby on Amestrian Christmas <3 16k words and yet it still doesn't feel like enough, I could write forever about them ;_; but then I'd never finish, lol. This was very self-indulgent for me. Anyone is free to read if you are into it, I put a lot of work into it, and tried to be tasteful about the pregnancy and trans stuff, hopefully it is ok! Read the Google Doc here.

Read it on AO3 here. Features: hyuroigracia poly pile, trans man Roy being pregnant, Amestrian Christmas, baby Elias arrives, lots of headcanons, mostly fluff with bits of angst. Set in a divergent 03-ish universe where Hughes lived.

---

Roy wakes from dreaming, startling a little.

The nightmares seem to have lessened lately - maybe, he's not sure - either way, at least he wakes somewhat gently this time, the horrors of his brain ebbing back into his subconscious to be forgotten, for now. They leave him to blink at his surroundings and realize that he is not there again - he is in bed, at home, safe and warm within his bedsheets.

His eyes adjust to the dim, warm light of morning streaming in through the window curtains, casting everything in a sort of glow - the cozy wooden furniture, the haphazard toiletries on the dresser, the white porcelain lamp on the nightstand beside him, with pink flowers painted across its surface. Roy takes it all in, and for a hazy moment, wonders how he even reached this point in his life.

A lot has happened this past year - over a year and a half now, actually. It's been a whirlwind of events since the scarred Ishvalan appeared, and the Elrics made their grisly discoveries. Since then, Roy has exposed a deep-seeded corruption with his own government, lead a quiet, deadly rebellion against it, and personally destroyed the monster at its heart - or at least, its strongest pawn.

He gave up his dream of Fuhrership in the process, becoming branded and cast out as a traitor to his country afterwards, but in the eyes of many, he was a hero - a real hero this time, not a monster with a hero's title. Despite occasional bouts of regret, he thinks this particular exchange was worth it - figuratively, and almost literally, conquering his own Pride and ambition for the greater good.

But what feels more poignant in this moment is his more intimate accomplishments.

With enough funds and string-pulling, Roy has fully buried both his past, and past identity. Within the past few years, he finally changed the last of his records to reflect his chosen name, cutting all ties to the lonely, miserable child he once was. And even more significantly, he's changed his body as well, with an expensive, secretive chest surgery that took great pains to arrange, endure, and recover from - all without drawing suspicion. But it was done, and Roy couldn't be happier with the results.

More surgeries were a possibility, of course, but for now Roy was content with himself - he's not looking to change anything internal quite yet anyway.

Not long after that, in the midst of the chaos of the unfolding conspiracy, he finally gained the courage - or just enough blind idiocy - to finally confess the depths of his love for his dearest, dearest friend. If it made him less of a man, or even a person of dignity, ultimately it didn't matter. To keep his heart closed to it, to hide it any longer, would have slowly destroyed him.

And unbelievably - his feelings were reciprocated. Wholeheartedly, genuinely, and for a period of time that Roy had been foolish to blind himself to. The love of his life loved him back, and nothing had made him happier than in those moments when they finally consummated the years of tension and affection between them, and promised to never again be apart.

And with the blessings of a mutual friend just as dear, and their renewed devotion to each other, they could all face the danger of the previous years together.

Roy eases out of his own thoughts as he listens to the quiet breathing of another body next to him - and he turns to see the aforementioned dear friend and dearest love, Maes Hughes, lying next to him in their bed.

To his mild surprise, Maes is also awake. His usually-slick hair now a messy, unkempt mop on his head, his bare, glasses-less green eyes squinting at him. It's unfair that he's still attractive like this.

"Mornin'," he says, smiling warmly.

Roy gives him one of his many incredulous smirks. "Awake too, huh? Why didn't you say anything?"

Maes shrugs, then reaches up with a hand to brush at Roy's hair with his fingers. "I like watching you wake up. You're cute."

"No I'm not," Roy growls, but there's no real bite to it, and he's trying and failing to bite back a smile at Maes' touch. "I'm smart, charming, suave, sometimes irresistible- but I am not cute."

"Wrong. You're adorable," Maes says matter-of-factly, and he leans forward to peck him on the forehead, as if he were a precocious little child.

Roy grumbles again, frustrated both by the gentle contact and being momentarily unable to think of another retort - instead, he decides to enact his revenge by reaching up, wrapping an arm around Maes' shoulders, and gently, but assertively, pulling their mouths together for a kiss.

Maes is the one to growl a little now, and returns the gesture with affectionate lips and tongue. He's strong and hearty beneath Roy's touch, in good health save for a few new scars across his torso, some aches and pains he'll complain about sometimes. But he's allowed to - it's not every day one faces undead, unkillable homonculi and lives to tell the tale. The same went for Roy - he has his own share of injuries, resulting in several new scars and a small limp in his step, but between the two of them things could be much worse.

Eventually they are sated with their kissing, for the moment, and the two pull away to gaze at each other warmly.

"So- how you feeling?" Maes asks.

Roy blinks at him. "About what?"

"I mean- you know, in general. Still don't feel any different?"

"Oh. Mm... I don't know," Roy murmurs, searching the ceiling with his eyes. "But I do feel a little weird in the stomach, as I think about it..."

Maes' eyebrows lift up significantly. "Oh ho- stomach, huh? I think we know what's coming, then," he says, with a maddeningly knowing tone and even more maddening smile.

Roy rolls his eyes. "Ugh- I'm really not looking forward to that."

Maes just snorts. "You signed up for it, hun."

"I know," Roy says with a deflating sigh.

"You'll be fine, darling, it's only for a few months," Maes says. "...And I promise, I'll be right there keeping the hair out of your eyes when you're barfing your guts into the toilet."

"My hero ," Roy drawls with sarcasm, snickering lightly.

Maes snorts again, then rolls forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Hey, I'm your husband now. I'm supposed to do stuff like that."

Roy smiles, but there's something wavering in his dark eyes, a bit of sadness in his tone. "Ah, Maes- if only that were true in the records..."

Maes is crestfallen for a moment, reminded that in the eyes of the Amestrian law, their recent betrothal was bare-bones at most - a loophole in the civil partnership clauses, really - and kept tightly secretive from anyone who wasn't a friend or accomplice. A proper marriage between men like themselves simply wasn't possible (yet) - much less a second marriage to give an already-taken man another partner.

But the moment passes, and Maes reaches forward and takes Roy's hands in his, considers the second ring on his finger - a brilliant silver-white band, complementing Gracia's gold one and matching Roy's own.

He intertwines their fingers, and kisses lightly at Roy's knuckles. "Someday, darling, someday. Things'll change. But even if it doesn't, as far as I'm concerned I'm yours forever, and you are mine, and I'm the luckiest man in the world to have Gracia and you both."

Roy just looks at him the whole time, looks with eyes soft with love and affection, and a smile just as warm.

- And that smile falters slightly as Maes lids his eyes and tugs his smile into another knowing smirk. "...Besides, since when did you start caring about the legality of a situation?"

Roy blinks, looking adorably bewildered as he searches the ceiling for an answer. "Er- When it involves the man I love?"

Maes' eyes crinkle, and he releases their hands to wrap an arm around Roy's shoulders and draw him in to laugh into his neck. "That's a shitty answer."

"I know," Roy says, snorting softly.

They cuddle together 'till the laughter dies down, and Maes proceeds to kiss Roy again, now along his neck and collarbones, working steadily down towards his chest. He nuzzles his face into the dip between his pectorals, presses his lips against the variety of scars there, surgical and otherwise. Roy sighs with contentment, petting at Maes' hair and squirming slightly when a ticklish area is touched.

Maes moves down further, trailing kisses until he's reached Roy's belly button, where his stomach is still flat and toned - but there's a bit more softness to it than usual, at least to Maes' senses. Which are, admittedly, fairly clouded with excitement due to recent developments.

He hums into his Roy's skin. "Mm. You feel softer already."

Roy snorts against him. "Bullshit."

Ignoring that, Maes keeps humming as he nuzzles at his stomach, his voice rising into a recognizable melody - a children's lullaby, one he often sang to Elicia when she was smaller and more frightened of the night.

Roy snorts again. "They can't hear you, you idiot- Gracia said it's barely the size of a pea by now, there's no organs yet."

"You can never start too early," Maes sing-songs, his lips tickling the skin of Roy's belly.

Roy suppresses his laughter. "Start what? Inducting them into appreciating your terrible singing voice?"

"Oh c'mon, I'm not that bad," Maes grumbles, drawing away to frown at him. "Honestly, I feel sorrier about them listening to you for the next eight months."

"Shut up," Roy laughs, and lightly shoves at Maes' shoulders to get him off him. Maes, being the larger and broader man, responds with a playful growl and a lunge, trapping Roy in a bear-hug in which he is helpless to a barrage of kisses against every part of his face. Knowing better than anyone when he's strategically out of his depth, Roy surrenders to being nothing more than a giggling mess in Maes' arms.

Suddenly there's a shuffle of footsteps, a creak of the bedroom door, and the voice of a four-year-old girl cuts through their rough-housing.

"Daddy! Stop it! You're gonna squish the baby!" Elicia cries out, a little arm stretched precariously up to the doorknob, her other arm pointing accusingly at her father.

"And Mommy says to wake up, breakfast is almost ready!" she adds, the original intent of her interruption.

Roy and Maes stare at her - then at each other - before Maes throws back his head in laughter.

"I am not squishing your other dad, honey," Maes wheezes, "I'm keeping him nice and warm, see?" He demonstrates with a much gentler version of his previous bear-hug, enveloping Roy into his warmth. Roy himself merely smiles with bemusement, and enjoys the attention.

Elicia sticks out her tongue in disgust, at both her father's blatant affections and complete disregard for her concerns. "Then put another blanket on him! If you squish my baby sister I won't ever forgive you, Daddy!"

Maes laughs again, but relents this time, releasing Roy and sitting up from their bed. "Alright, alright, honey- I'm sorry. Tell Mommy I'll be up in a minute. Does she need any help?"

"Nope! You burn things!" Elicia exclaims, hilariously irreverent, and she turns and darts back into the hallway, haphazardly closing the door behind her.

Maes rolls his eyes - "No respect, even from my own offspring," he mutters under his breath - as he rolls himself up and out of bed, and makes his way towards the dresser to prepare for the day.

He stops midway to circle around to Roy's side and give him another quick peck on the forehead. "You heard the little lady - time to get up. We've got that thing to get to, after all."

"Of course, " Roy sighs despondently, wishing he could spend another hour or so basking in the heat of Maes' body and bedsheets instead. But the day must begin eventually, and he follows Maes' example and rolls himself in the direction of the bathroom to freshen up.

---

After a quick shower, a change of clothes, and a delicious breakfast courtesy of Gracia's fine cooking, Roy returns to the bathroom to brush his teeth and apply the rest of his usual toiletries in preparation for the outing this afternoon.

He was looking forward to it - it's a clear, sunny day of the weekend, and so, members of his and Maes' former squadrons have planned a get-together on the outskirts of Central, in a park popular for such gatherings, per Havoc's recommendation. ("It's perfect for families," he'd said. "Or at least mine - my folks n' I went there all the time.")

It's far from the first time they've held such gatherings together since he and Maes retired, and it certainly won't be the last - they're opportunities for their still-military-bound colleagues to unwind from their stresses, discreet exchanges of updates and information, and of course, quality time to spend with good friends.

Roy's mind wanders as he continues his routine - he wonders what bitter complaints Riza will no doubt bring up, seeing as she’s stuck helping navigate the massive power vacuum in Central as it’s officials scramble to appoint a new Führer - when a strange feeling jerks him out of his thoughts suddenly.

There is an odd, twisting sensation in his belly - the "weird feeling" he'd mentioned to Maes earlier, but it was more intense now. Not incredibly so, but certainly more noticeable. Roy quietly ignores it for now, praying it won't get any worse as he continues with the gelling and smoothing of his hair and light application of face-powder.

But, of course, minutes later his stomach is slowly churning, definitely turning nauseous now, and Roy rolls his eyes toward the ceiling and sighs again. He's not sure what's more disappointing - that Maes was right after all, or that he'll be throwing up most of Gracia's wonderful meal.

Instead, Roy decides to prepare for the inevitable - he washes the gel out of his hair and powder off his face, lifts the toilet seat, and calls into the bedroom:

"Maes? Come here a moment - it looks like I'll need your hair-lifting services after all."

"I told you," Maes calls back.

"Just get in here."

---

An hour or so later, Roy has recovered from his nausea enough for their little family to be well on their way to the hangout - namely, through one of Gracia's odd variety of home remedies. This time it consisted of making Roy suck on a slice of lemon, claiming that its sour, citrus-filled scents and flavors were a natural counter to nausea. Despite his reservations (and intense dislike of said flavors), the remedy worked, and his stomach has settled (for now).

That still didn't stop him from complaining about it through most of the drive.

"-Still, of all the days for it to start ," he groans from the backseat. "I'll be spending the whole time refusing everyone's food and drinking nothing but fruit juice, I just know it."

Gracia, sitting next to him, has been comforting him with a hand rubbing his shoulder. "You should be fine, dear, it's been a while already... but if you start feeling queasy again, just stick to small things, like crackers. You know, nothing heavy on the stomach. Besides, if worse comes to worse, I brought more lemons."

Roy only groans again, rolling his eyes this time. "Everyone's already getting suspicious of me after quitting alcohol, cold turkey, without even an announcement - and now, nibbling on crackers and lemons for my stomach? I may as well wear a damn sign on my head."

Maes, in the driver's seat, glances back at them with a frown. "And what's so bad about that? You're gonna have to tell them eventually , Roy, it's been a month already. If you wait any longer, well-"

Roy cuts him off, anxiety filling his tone. "You know why I can't tell them yet, Maes, not until we know for sure- wait, what's that?"

He cuts himself off because at this point they've entered the park at Central's outskirts - a lovely, well-kept swathe of grass and trees within sight of its eastern river, dotted with tents, benches, playgrounds, and other recreational structures. But what's strange is that, in the distance, one can see a particular group of benches that's decorated with flower bouquets, bunches of balloons, and strings of ribbons, all in pastel colors of blue, pink and white. The people setting up these decorations, along with various food and drinks, are hard to make out at this distance - but they appear to be their friends and ex-coworkers, all in casual wear.

Maes makes a curious "Huh," sound at this, and makes another, more worried sound as they pull into a nearby parking space and see more clearly that the distant human figures are definitely their friends (Major Armstrong's massive frame is unmistakable at any distance).

"It's a party now? What's the occasion?" Roy asks out loud. "It's not a holiday today, is it?"

"Not that I know of," Gracia says. "The colors look like something for Children's Day... but that was a month ago, wasn't it?"

Maes glances nervously between his partners and the apparent celebration, chewing his lower lip. "Uh- yeah, yeah, pretty sure. I, uh- I dunno, hun."

In the meantime, Elicia, who had been spending most of the drive quietly busying herself with her favorite doll's hair and dresses in the passenger seat, has tossed it aside in favor of bouncing in her seat at the mention of a party. "Party! A party!" she cries, clapping her hands. "I wanna go! I wanna go! Can I go to the party please, mommydaddy?"

Maes shushes her with promises of yes, she will be going, right now in fact, as he carefully unclips her seatbelt and helps her out of the car as everyone else steps out.

As the family approaches the party area, sunlight glints off a pair of large glasses on the distant face of Kain Fuery, and when he notices them, he waves a greeting with an exuberant wave of his arm. Then he turns to the others and distantly calls, "Hey! Looks like the guests of honor finally arrived!"

The others turn to him, then to Roy and the Hughes', and break out into excited waves, hellos, and even a little applause. Fuery, meanwhile, jogs down the small slope between them to take Roy's hand in an enthusiastic handshake, giving him a beaming smile. "Ah - salutations and congratulations, sir! We're all very happy for you and the good news!" he exclaims.

Roy hardly has time to wonder at all this strangeness going on, for as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, he finds that he can hardly get a word in edgewise as his other former squad-mates approach him with the same boisterous congratulations.

Havoc (who Roy briefly realizes he might need to either put distance from, or ask him to put out his cigarettes around him for his health), runs up and claps a hand to his shoulder, all but shouting, "Mustang! You old so-and-so, I didn't think you had it in ya! Congrats, man!"

Breda flashes a cheeky grin from behind Havoc's shoulder. "Good luck with the new additions," he chuckles. "You'll need it."

Meanwhile Falman approaches from behind, somewhat cautiously, as he often is in social situations. But he seems nonetheless chipper as he claps quietly, saying, "Wonderful news, Colonel, congratulations." The addressing of Roy's military title was a habit he still had to break.

And bringing up the very rear was Riza, a bit hampered by her dog, Black Hayate, attempting to entrap her legs with his leash in his excitement. But she still offers a warm smile in his direction as she makes her way down the slope.

Maes' friends, consisting of Major Armstrong, Maria, Denny, and Sheska, also swarm him and Gracia with the same amount of bewildering praise and applause, and the same greetings of "congratulations" and "great news" (and Armstrong nearly crushing Maes' bones with one of his hugs, again).

All the while, little Elicia claps her hands in a mimic of Falman and intensifies her bouncing, singing "congratulations" right along with everyone else.

Between Roy's sputtering and Maes' breathlessness, Gracia was the one to finally get in the burning question - she spreads her hands, gestures in a shushing motion, and raises her voice in a tone not unlike one she'd have used in her days as a librarian.

"Hey- excuse me, everyone- what's all this about?"

At that, everyone quiets, their greetings devolving into confused noises and stares. For a moment, an awkward silence falls, but its quickly broken by a nervous, mousey Sheska. "Well, you know- you said you were, um- expecting again, with Mr. Mustang, sir," she says, addressing Maes. "At least, you told me over the phone that time. You seemed so excited, so I thought it was only fair to-"

"-Y-you what?!" Roy blurts out.

"Uh, yeah," Denny Brosh chimes in, "she told me when we were drinking last weekend, so of course, I told Maria-"

"-And since they knew, it seemed only fair to tell the Major," Maria continues;

Armstrong, smiling merrily through his mustache despite the confusion in his eyes, says "-And I was so moved by the blessed news, I simply had to tell your former squadron, Mustang sir. They seemed to know already, informing me of your behavior as of late;"

And Havoc, quirking his mouth around his cigarette, finishes with a shrug. "-So we decided to turn this hangout into an early baby shower for you guys to save you the trouble. I did say this place was great for families, after all."

If Roy could see himself in these moments, he'd be amused at how quickly the color drained from his face, then returned tenfold and turned his face and neck a bright scarlet color. By the time Havoc finishes his last sentence, he's covering his face with both hands and wishing he had his ignition gloves on hand in order to obliterate his own existence - but of course, that wouldn't be fair to his unborn child, so perhaps a better target would be his damnably excitable, loose-lipped husband.

He loosens his grip on his own face to better see said husband, who is now also sporting a deeply flushed complexion, scrubbing at his neck and avoiding eye contact with everyone except Roy himself - a mistake.

As soon as they lock eyes, Roy's shame boils over into an unbridled rage, and he brings down his hands, clenches them into fists, and proceeds to wave them erratically while shouting obscenities at Maes.

"Goddammit Maes, you goddamn big-mouthed idiot ! I told you not to say anything! Now everyone knows and we have all this bullshit when we don't even know if it'll even-!"

Maes spreads his hands in surrender and shrinks away from his incensed partner, spluttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Okay okay, I got excited and let it slip to Sheska, and maybe one or two others, but I swear that's all-"

Quickly, Gracia gets between them to play peacemaker, attempting to seize Roy by the shoulders and saying "Roy, stop, please, it's alright-"

Thankfully, the mood passes. As soon as she lays hands upon Roy, a pallor passes over his face, and he grows pale again - then he keels over and starts dry heaving, his nausea returning with a vengeance.

The others can only look on with equal parts worry and amusement as the Hughes family tends to their newest and oddest member(s) - Gracia supporting Roy as he wobbles on his feet, Maes offering apologetic hugs and forehead-kisses, and Elicia looking upon the whole scene with the most amusing look of confusion a four-year-old could wear.

Riza, having finally given up on making Hayate stop squirming and barking at all the excitement, rolls her eyes and sighs deeply behind Havoc and the others.

"I told you this was a bad idea," she grumbles.

---

But the party wasn't a bad idea after all - after the initial misunderstanding, Roy calmed down from his nausea and somewhat-violent mood swing, and everyone was readily understanding, considering his condition. The party was enjoyably smooth afterwards.

True to his fears, Roy did end up consuming mostly crackers and more lemon slices, broken up by the occasions he was brave (and hungry) enough to eat more. But he did avoid actually-heaving, so it was a victory overall.

Besides refreshments, their friends also brought gifts, ranging from congratulatory cards to supplies for the new family member - mostly diapers and cleaning supplies, safe options and arguably, the most useful. No clothes except for a pair of tiny, white-ribboned shoes from Armstrong - purchased from a clothier who has provided high-quality infant clothing to the Armstrong family for generations, he claimed - and as Roy held the tiny articles in his hands, he found himself fighting an onrush of tears at the idea of the tiny person who would be filling them someday soon; then proceeded to angrily deny the redness in his eyes, curse at his hormones, then at Maes for cooing over him and attempting to calm him with more hugs and kisses.

As evening approaches and the small party winds down, Roy finds himself pretty much spent on the social side of things. After making this known, his friends and partners courteously allow him some needed time alone, which he spends sitting at a bench slightly apart from the others, pecking at leftover food scraps, as his stomach's settled again.

"Roy," the voice of Riza says softly as she approaches, and he turns to her with a smile. Close friends since teenhood, he's never minded her presence even when his energies were spent, and he nods for her to sit beside him.

"I tied up Hayate by the tent poles," she says as she settles in. "Looks like Elicia finally tired him out." She jerks her chin towards the black-and-white-furred dog flopped on the grass near the pole he was tied to.

"And likewise for her," Roy adds with a chuckle, nodding towards a bench nearby, where a content Gracia gently rocks her daughter's exhausted form in her lap.

Riza smiles warmly at the scene. "Aw- so sweet. Hard to believe that'll be you too, months from now."

Her smile takes on a mischievous slant as she turns it back on Roy, looking at him from the corners of her eyes. "Or maybe not. You seem to have that 'motherly glow' already."

Roy scoffs loudly. "Oh, don't you start too- I get enough of that crap from Maes as it is. Besides, that's a myth anyway - your skin might change color in some areas, but it doesn't glow ."

Riza doesn't laugh much, not outwardly - but you can see it in her eyes, clear as day, if you know what to look for. Which Roy does - and it always annoys him.

"Probably, yeah," she replies. "But you do seem happier."

"I am," Roy says, pursing his lips, then bothering the bottom one with his teeth for a moment. "And, honestly... kind of terrified?"

He phrases it like an unsure question to take the edge off - he isn't sure why, he should know by know that Riza can always see through his bluffs, and always has over the years. And it's been equal parts annoying and comforting, because on the one hand, nothing gets past her, but on the other, there is no one better than her to divulge one's honest insecurities. Especially ones that he hasn't admitted to any of his other friends at this party.

So Roy can only blame his own niggling demons of anxiety for trying to mask this admission at the last moment.

Familiarly, and thankfully, Riza just looks at him, nodding. "That's understandable," she says matter-of-factly.

"I mean, I'm sure it is," Roy stammers, trying to spill himself freely in her understanding presence. "It's a lot to- you know- it's just so much . Between the pregnancy and the birth, that'll be hard enough, and not just physically. And then with everything afterwards- I mean, it's a whole person , Riza-

He takes a breath in response to a pleading look in Riza's eyes, one she often uses to silently tell him, Please, sir, try to breathe.

A little more centered, he continues. "I just- I've never done this before. And... to be honest, I never thought I would . I've never really thought of myself as a parent before. I mean- let's be honest, I haven't made the best decisions with children lately..."

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his nervous heart pounding in his chest. But Riza only nods slowly, considering him and his words.

"True enough," she says finally. "But things were different then- and those boys were an exceptional case, one that wasn't always in your control. In the end, I think they made their own decisions... I wish you wouldn't blame yourself so much for them."

Roy only sighs despondently. It's something he's heard before, from multiple people - a nice reminder, but it seemed there would always be a part of him that would blame himself for what happened to the Elric brothers (among many, many other things).

Riza meets his eyes. "Honestly, I think you'll be just fine, Roy. You've changed. You might not have noticed it, but I have."

Roy suppresses the temptation to laugh at that, since she's being sincere. "Really. How?"

Riza cocks her head slightly, searches the surrounding grass for words. "You are... kinder," she says. "More gentle, more selfless. Which only makes sense, I suppose - in giving up your ambition, you let go of some of your selfishness, in a way."

She meets his eyes again. "But I think the fact that you even agreed to this, and decided to see it through, is what really shows who you are now. The Roy that I knew only a few years ago would never do this."

At this point Roy is flushing nearly to his neck again, staring down into his lap and trying vainly to do something with his hands. "You- You flatter me too much, Lieutenant."

He can practically hear the cheeky smile in her voice. "I only speak the truth, sir."

Roy scratches idly at his neck before finally deigning to look at her again. And she is smiling, but its less cheeky than he imagined. It's equal parts sincerity and amusement, and she brings it closer as she moves to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Even if you mess up, you have not one, but two partners by your side - loving, protective, and already experienced in child-rearing. Between the three of you, the baby will want for nothing."

And now she's all sincerity, almost beaming at him. She leans further and offers him her other arm in a rare gesture, coming from her - a hug. Which Roy welcomes, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and welcoming her warmth against his. Riza isn't the sort of person to give physical affection very often, if at all, so when she does it's for something she deeply, deeply cares about.

He has to fight back an urge to cry, again - and again blames it on his rampant hormones, damn them.

"I'm proud of you," she says softly, pulling away and meeting his eyes. "After losing so much, starting from nothing- and now, you have a family."

Roy blinks away the wetness from his eyes, wipes them with one hand. "Well, so do you- I mean, you've come far as well, Riza."

And she has - she was, like him, a fellow orphan of Amestris’ constant warring. However, she was courageous enough to forge a new name for herself and her future, distancing herself from what little family she had left when they ultimately proved to be cold and uncaring. In some ways, she is far braver than him - so Roy never minces his words about her.

She brushes at her bangs with one hand, slightly flustered. "I guess so- I'm happy too, work troubles notwithstanding. I do have my work cut out for me, after everything's that's happened."

"You have support too," Roy assures her. "And mine as well, even if I can't be there leading the charge anymore. You'll be fine - both of us will."

"Here's hoping," Riza says, smiling warmly.

---

Months pass, and the blooming Spring mellows out into a lazy Summer around Central. The flowers fade, the grass dries, and Roy no longer complains of nausea - now he gripes about his weight as he slowly grows rounder.

His fairly-toned physique from years of military training had already started smoothing out since his retirement, but the pregnancy only hastens this process - at this point, he's outgrown most of his dress pants and shirts and has surrendered himself to wearing mostly loose shirts and casual short pants. Maes and Gracia have no qualms with these new developments.

Despite his anxieties, Roy's progress is smooth, according to Gracia, their books on the subject, and the specialist he's hired for this occasion - they came with high marks after overseeing his chest surgery and successfully keeping it under wraps. And if all goes well, they'll be overseeing his delivery soon.

One morning is particularly warm, and Roy trudges into the kitchen, already tired and sweating - it is entirely the worst time of year to be hormonal and gaining weight. As he opens the fridge to search its contents, he’s tempted to stay there just to bask in its cool air for a minute longer - and to look for something cold and sweet to sate his hunger.

“If you’re looking for more cookie dough, don’t bother,” Gracia’s voice pipes up from across the room, startling him slightly. “I’m not making any more.”

Roy plays off his flinching by smoothing his hair and forcing a chuckle. “Ah- I was not doing that, actually, just cooling myself off a bit,” he says, which was partly true, so it definitely wasn’t a lie. “But, uh- no cookies today, Gracia? Why?”

Gracia, making breakfast at the kitchen stove as usual, rolls her eyes at him. “Because a certain someone nibbled at the dough so much throughout the day that when I finally baked them, at least a third of it was already gone. And even after the cookies were done, someone ate so much of them there wasn’t nearly enough to last everyone for the month. Elicia was looking forward to having dessert every night instead of, you know- only two or three.”

Roy stares, gaping dumbly at her for a moment - then snaps his mouth shut into a frown, huffing softly. “Well- that wasn’t entirely my fault. If it weren’t for the baby giving me these damn cravings-”

“You’ve had a sweet tooth for as long as I can remember, Roy, don’t blame the baby for that,” Gracia tuts at him. “You’re just using them as an excuse to give up your self-control.”

“I- Well- Ugh. Fine, I’m sorry,” Roy relents, ears burning with shame at this point. Not for the first or last time, he wonders why he insists on surrounding himself with people who had a penchant for seeing through his bullshit.

Gracia laughs brightly, finishing off the last of her cooking and turning off the stove. “Don’t apologize to me,” she says smugly, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Apologize to your future self when you’re spending twelve hours in labor to deliver our child.”

Roy’s mouth drops open. “Twelve hours ?”

“That’s what happened to one of my old coworkers,” Gracia says, nodding grimly. “Too much ice cream, too small in the hips. They had to open her up to deliver her son - and no surprise, he turned in at nearly eleven pounds at birth. And his mother never did lose all the weight she gained.”

Roy swallows nervously, feeling a chill up his spine - then remembers he’s still standing in front of the open fridge. Feeling plenty cold enough, he carefully closes its doors. “That’s, uh- that’s rough.”

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of it,” Gracia chuckles, and she straightens and turns to pour herself some coffee from the pot on the stove. “I’ve heard so many horror stories, you wouldn’t believe it - bearing children is very difficult. A lot can go wrong, and badly.”

“So I’ve heard,” Roy mutters, recounting articles he’s glanced over in the newspapers, about mothers losing their lives in the effort to bear their children; babies born with terrible illnesses or deformities that claim their lives before they’ve even lived a year, or leave them crippled for a lifetime; countless tragedies that leave orphans, widowers, and other such suffering in their wake. To say he was anxious about his own child’s birth was an understatement.

He glances nervously at the small curve of his stomach as he moves to sit at the kitchen table, sighs harshly and runs a hand through his hair again.

Gracia hums sadly across the way, and after an awkward silence, she joins him at the table while setting down their plates of breakfast. Roy looks at it, but does not feel hungry anymore.

“I wish I could say it gets easier,” Gracia says, still crestfallen in her tone. “But then you have a newborn on your hands - totally helpless, completely dependent on you. Your whole schedule revolves around them, which usually means you’re alternating between sleeping or staying awake for two hours at a time. And that lasts for a year, at least.”

She smiles a little, plucking herself up. “But then they start getting a personality - it’s so fun, watching that develop. And then they’re walking and talking - of course, that’s the toddler years. You’ve seen some of that already.” She chuckles at this last part.

“I do,” Roy says tiredly, now recalling the evenings he’d spent babysitting a smaller, more hyperactive Elicia in the years before he married Maes. In his misguided, pining state, he probably thought he could win favor by looking after his daughter - and this partly worked, as it led to a closer friendship with Gracia, tearing down the awkward walls between them.

He bows his head and sighs again. “Ah, Gracey- if I didn’t know better, I'd wonder if all this was even worth it."

Gracia chuckles again. "Well, you are bringing a whole human being into the world. Then raising them as your own, giving them the best possible start towards their future- Of course there's going to be prices to pay for that sort of thing."

When he looks up, she’s twirling her fork at him, wearing a wry smile. "Didn't you Alchemists have a rule about that? ‘Equivalent exchange,’ right?"

She lowers the fork to rest her chin on her knuckles. "It's kinda like that - this is our version of Alchemy, in a way."

Roy stares at her for a long moment - then crumples into a long and loud fit of laughter.

"Ah, Gracey," he says as he comes down from it. "You're so much better than any Alchemist."

Gracia laughs too, at that - then suddenly leans over to peck him on his cheek. "So are you, dear."

The affection catches Roy off-guard, a bit, and he spends a few moments blinking dumbly. He opens and closes his mouth to retort, but when nothing comes to him, he grumbles, and busies himself with poking at his breakfast. "Hmph."

---

Roy still suffers the occasional mood swings as he progresses, which is normal, according to Gracia and the doctor.

But what isn't normal is how deeply, deeply low Roy's mood becomes at times - when his movements become sluggish, his appetite diminishes, and he no longer finds joy or laughter in much of anything. At his absolute worst, he spends one morning unable to get out of bed at all - and both his partners know this can't entirely be blamed on the pregnancy.

"Dear, please," Gracia says softly, kneeling by Roy's bedside, gently brushing his mussed hair out of his eyes. His plate of breakfast sits on the nearby nightstand, untouched. "You need to eat, now more than ever."

"I know," Roy mutters, but he doesn't move, still curled within his bedsheets with his face half-buried into his pillow. His eyes are red and tired from too little sleep and too many tears.

"At least a few bites, or a nibble," Maes murmurs at his other side, his form curled around Roy's own, hugging him from the back, his face nuzzling his husband's ear. "You need it. So does the baby."

"I know," Roy repeats, but again he makes no move to obey them.

"Darling," Maes kisses into his hair, "Please. Try."

Roy squeezes his eyes shut, and his breath hitches, but he says nothing and still doesn't move.

Gracia keeps gently stroking his cheek. "At least say something," she pleads. "Tell us what's wrong. We're here, we'll listen."

Roy's breathing becomes erratic for a few moments, as if pushing back a quiet sob. But eventually he settles and opens his eyes, seeming to get up the nerve to speak his mind.

He chokes out, "What... did I do... to deserve this?"

"Deserve what?" Maes asks.

"All of this," Roy says, voice watery. "You, and Elicia, and the baby- how..." He swallows, and clears his throat. "...How can I bring life into this world when I've brought nothing but death?"

Gracia and Maes exchange glances, understanding. Gracia less so, but she is very familiar with the look of helplessness that again crosses her husband's features, the look that Maes gives when he remembers that Roy went to Ishval and he did not, and he will always, always be sorry about it. That he couldn't be there to stand by Roy's side, to share in its horrors, its suffering, and all he could do ever afterwards was try to put him back together with kind words, soft smiles, slices of Gracia's homemade pies.

It wasn't enough - never enough - but it was something , and it helped.

So again, Maes blinks back his tears, then adjusts himself so he can wrap his arms around Roy's shoulders and take his hands in his own, gently intertwining their fingers and bringing them down to touch the small dome of Roy's belly.

"You saved my life, darling. Multiple times. That's not nothing," he says, kissing into the crook of Roy's neck. "You've saved all of us - our friends, our family, even the whole nation."

Roy squeezes his eyes closed again. "But, Edward-"

"That wasn't your fault, dear," Gracia interrupts, her hand joining Maes' and Roy's. "Whatever happened down there, that was his battle, not yours. He's strong - wherever he is, I'm sure he's doing just fine."

"Yeah," Maes agrees. "We have to believe that... He'd hate for us to worry over him anyway. You know him," he adds, forcing a chuckle.

Roy sighs, but he nestles a little within Maes' hold. "Mm. I wish I could... Believe, that is. In anything."

"...What about our child?" Maes asks, his hand at Roy's stomach rubbing gently. "You can believe in them. They'll be here soon, after all."

Roy's eyes lose focus, and he exhales again. "Ah, even then- I'm still... scared they might not."

Gracia starts, her face pinching with worry. "Dear, please, don't even think of it. You're doing so well, even more than the doctor predicted- please, don't risk it all by worrying needlessly. Don't-"

She takes a breath, bows her head slightly. "Don't be like me."

Maes makes a strained sound. "Honey-"

"It's fine." Gracia flashes a small smile in Maes' direction, then turns it toward Roy, who still stares out at nothing in particular.

"Roy," she says. "You remember before I had Elicia, don't you?"

"Mm." Roy makes a noncommittal noise. He must remember those times, but he makes no effort to make it obvious, so Gracia sighs and decides to remind him.

"We miscarried so much," she continues, exchanging soft glances with Maes. "The doctors never could find out what was wrong with me. It was awful - and neither of us breathed a word to anyone, we were so ashamed. At least, I was."

She squeezes Roy's hand in her own. "We only told you after you found me crying after dinner, that day. I thought I was broken, and worthless, and all these terrible things - and that only made it worse. I was my own self-fulfilling prophecy."

She bows her head and leans in, planting a kiss on Roy's knuckles, near his stomach. When she looks up again, his eyes are looking intently at her, soft with pain and sympathy. He does remember.

"Without you and Maes, Elicia wouldn't even be here," Gracia says. "And she'll always be my little miracle, but I can't put myself through that again. You'll never know how truly, truly grateful I am for you doing this for us, Roy. For our family."

When she meets Roy's eyes again, they're wet with tears on the verge of spilling. This time she leans over to kiss his cheek, and wipes away the wetness with her thumb.

"I'm so proud of you, darling," Maes says behind him. "All of us are. Even Elicia - she's so ready to be a big sister. It's kind of funny, actually - she acts like she'll be ten years older instead of four."

"God, she does," Gracia says, chuckling softly. "All she talks about lately is all the toys and clothes she's going to share with her 'little sister,' and all the food she's going to make for her. She keeps asking me to show her how to cook dinner now - and she can't even reach the stovetop without standing on a chair."

Maes snorts with laughter. "God, that's adorable - how is she doing by the way, cooking-wise?"

Gracia levels a knowing smirk at him. "Well, she's a step up from you, Mister Water-Burner."

"Oh, ouch- ouch . You're so cruel, honey," Maes whines, feigning hurt.

Gracia laughs harder now, shaking her head. "Cruel? I've been trying to show you how to cook for years , but when you're not making jokes out of everything, you're turning it into something not even dogs would eat. It's pretty sad when a toddler's a better student than you."

Maes laughs, hard, dropping his forehead against Roy's back until he composes himself. "Oh Gracey, you're so mean ," he drawls out. "That's it, I'm only sleeping with Roy from now on. He wouldn't make hurtful jokes about his poor husband's cooking skills. Isn't that right, darling?"

Roy doesn't appear to respond for a moment - but listening carefully, one can hear erratic breaths and a slight shifting of fabric, and his shoulders and chest tremble within the blankets and Maes' arms. But there are no tears - Roy is quietly snorting into his pillow and suppressing soft laughter.

"Hey- are you laughing ?" Maes exclaims. Roy tenses within his grip, now squeezing his eyes to suppress a grin threatening to break out on his face.

"You're laughing, aren't you. I can't believe this. Both my wife and husband, laughing at my expense," Maes says, withering into laughter. Gracia does the same, and Roy's resolve crumbles, and it isn't long before all three of them have devolved into a shared laughing fit.

The mood was lighter, and it was warmly welcomed.

And later on, after more lighthearted conversation and gentle encouragement, Roy's depression lightened to the point he could sit up and eat a slice of toast and spoonfuls of porridge without much issue. He still stayed in bed most of the day, and only ate a bit more as it went on, but by the evening his body's needs began to outweigh his lack of appetite and he ate ravenously of his dinner, and he could sleep soundly through most of the night.

He improved slowly - at least, his mood didn't often dip into such a low point after that, but when it did, Maes and Gracia were once again there to hold him and remind him how much he was loved, and loved others in turn.

...Or to make more jokes at Maes' expense. Those helped too.

---

Fall is here; the greens and yellows of Summer have faded into shades of red, gold and brown, the leaves of trees darken and cover the ground, and the air grows colder.

Roy's moods have improved, along with his health, and now his child's movements can be felt within him. At first, it was strange and exciting - there are few words he can find to express how simultaneously incredible and incredibly weird it is to feel a tiny person moving around inside him.

By now, the novelty has worn off - Roy could swear that the child shifts only in ways to spite him, pressing up into his lungs when he's trying to eat, or down onto his bladder when he lays down for the night, and he ends up struggling against his own unwieldy body to get up and use the bathroom for the umpteenth time. Or, usually, they just kick him constantly. At this point he's welcomed Maes' attempts to sing lullabies to their unborn child to soothe them. It actually seems to work, sometimes.

Between all this, even more egregious weight issues, and his ever-rounder appearance, no one blames him for his complaining now. Maes and Gracia offer as much comfort as they can, like taking turns offering him massages every evening, especially for his sore feet.

At least one positive is that the colder weather means he can sequester himself in large, billowing sweaters and pants, offering much in comfort and hiding his un-flattering figure.

Elicia, however, delights in these developments, as it proves that the reality of her becoming a big sister is drawing ever closer. She often puts her hands to Roy's stomach to feel its movements, and keeps asking him and everyone else when the baby will arrive.

One morning, Gracia, after making some calculations, says the delivery should occur right in the middle of winter - "Right around the Winter Solstice, actually," she says, jabbing her pen at the day marked on the kitchen's calendar. "Could even be the day of- that'll be interesting," she chuckles.

Maes scratches at his chin. "Well- shit. We'll be with your folks all week to celebrate... We really should have planned this better, hun," he says, directing this last statement at Roy.

Roy, seated at a nearby table with his chin balanced on one hand, rolls his eyes at his husband. "Don't look at me- You're the one who decided knocking me up in Spring instead of Winter was a good idea. It's usually the other way around, you know."

Maes turns several shades of scarlet at this and starts spluttering. "I- Well- Y-you agreed to it!"

"I did," Roy sighs long-sufferingly, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair to ease his sore back a little.

Gracia giggles at the two of them. "Oh well," she says. "It's fine, really. I'd rather it happen with more people around anyway. Feels safer."

"True, but- what're we gonna do for the kid's birthdays?" Maes wonders aloud. "They're going to live the rest of their life being forgotten. I had a coworker like that, y'know- poor girl was born on Couples' Day, so people either didn't believe her, or treated all the cheap chocolates as her birthday presents. Terrible."

"Yes, the poor thing," Gracia says, shaking her head. "But I think this is different - city-folk don't really celebrate the Solstices anymore, so maybe they'll end up getting birthday presents from their city friends, and Yule presents from the family."

Maes rolls his eyes. "So they'll be spoiled rotten instead. Great."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Roy says, grinning.

"You be quiet," Maes tuts at him. "I thought you were an orphan , you hypocrite. Don't you want our child to appreciate things?"

"Of course I do," Roy says, patting his stomach with an air of pride. "They're going to appreciate getting lots of money and free things every year."

Maes sighs, shaking his head. "Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

Gracia just laughs harder.

---

Weeks later, and it is only a few days before the Winter Solstice - or Yule Time, as some people still call it, like Gracia’s family.

Roy is due any day now - and at this point he's more or less numb to the constant dysphoria, anxiety, and dozens of other unpleasant symptoms. He is very heavy, very grumpy, and just wants his child to be born so he can finally hold them in his arms and be done with this.

The family does their best to make him comfortable in these final days - which now includes Gracia's kind-hearted parents and their siblings, as they are now rooming in their family home for the holiday.

The house isn't massive, or terribly luxurious, but true to Gracia's family, it is the very picture of coziness: old rugs and paintings adorn the walls and floors, wood and earthen furniture throughout, and large, worn sofas with plenty of throw pillows and blankets.

It’s a proper abode for generations of a country-born family staying true to its roots, constructed by a patriarch of Gracia's forefathers. This is most evident in the Yule decorations that now adorn everything - the front of the house wears wreathes of pine needles and sprigs of holly on its doorways, tied together with ribbons of red, green and gold. Within the house proper are various bells, knick-knacks and decorations on the walls and furniture, wicker baskets filled with candies in the kitchen, and all sorts of pleasantly-scented candles throughout.

Everything is concentrated in the main parlor, where a small evergreen tree stands proudly in its corner, covered in the highest concentration of these decorations. More baubles, ribbons and bells; dolls and figurines made of fabric and clay; preserved pinecones, berries and flowers; garlands of tinsel and colored beads. And it's all topped off with a hand-worked, golden metal star at its tip, allegedly made by a grand-relative skilled in metalworking. It’s construction is somewhat rough, even at a glance, and makes the part of Roy that was still a haughty State Alchemist wonder why the family didn’t hire one to make the star with a much more efficient metal transmutation - the rest of him chastises himself for being so shallow. He is deeply privileged to now be a part of such a family, rich in its history and heirlooms.

Beneath the tree's branches and surrounding the large pot holding its trunk, is a pile of wrapped presents, glimmering with shiny colored paper and bows. It captures the fascination of child and grown-up alike - mostly the children. Some of the more excitable ones, like Elicia, need to be kept under close watch to ensure they don't open them ahead of time. Roy feels grateful that his child is not yet among them.

And yet, for Roy, this place inspires a strange mix of both homeliness and alienation in him - the first and last time he was here was over four years ago, on the Solstice that followed Maes and Gracia's wedding.

It was a bittersweet occasion for him, marked with equal amounts of happiness and heartache because of still-buried feelings for Maes. In the presence of his friend's family, and that of his new wife, he felt like an intruder with no business being there; his attempts at socializing were cold and aloof when he wasn't drowning his feelings with rum and hard nog. Between his awkwardness and the chaos of the past few years, he'd politely declined further invitations back here.

But things are different now. He is different - it's just as Riza said all those months ago. Roy feels more relaxed, less caged within his own defensive walls, and has been having an easier time opening up to everyone - and in turn, others open up more to him. Of course, it helps that his partnership to Maes and Gracia now makes him a more proper member of the family, but even without that difference, the overwhelmingly warm vibes here suggests they would have welcomed him just the same, even all those years ago.

(Being very heavy with child also helps - he's too exhausted to put up many walls to begin with, gets plenty of sympathy and attention from just about everyone, and can't retreat back into a bottle even if he wanted to.)

Right now, sitting with Gracia's mother and father in the parlor, wrapped in conversation, he is the very picture of comfort: wearing the loosest sweatpants and the biggest, puffiest, Yule-colored sweater Gracia could find for him, covered in large throw blankets, and sipping from a mug of warm chocolate milk in his hands.

His only source of discomfort is of course, his unborn child, who still shifts constantly - there's also an occasional, somewhat-painful pressure inside him that comes and goes, but Gracia says these 'fake' contractions are common at this stage, so he does his best to ignore it.

Sebastian, Gracia's father, leans from the sofa with his elbows on his knees, recounting tales from his past as a war journalist, when times were simpler, and war was as well. His talk of the old-fashioned photography and recording equipment they used back then would be of endless fascination to Fuery. For Roy, he appreciates the wartime experiences, and can share his own to a sympathetic ear.

Gabriella, Gracia's mother with a history as a nurse, is more concerned with baby-talk: both embarrassing stories of Gracia's early childhood, and concerns about Roy's health and that of their new step-grandchild.

“-And that’s why Amestris never tried to push its borders eastward, and thank God for that,” Sebastian is saying. “We already have our hands full with the North.”

“You can say that again,” Roy groans, recounting the almost-war with said country not long ago. It’s still a wonder that his efforts dissipated the conflict, even if it’s merely boiled down into a cold war now. “Anyway,” he continues, not wanting to dwell on the subject, “This eastern desert - what’s beyond it?”

“Eastern countries, and then the ocean, I presume,” Sebastian replies, idly scratching his beard. “They say Xing is over there too, but who knows, no one’s heard from them in decades. Probably for good reason, knowing us.”

“True,” Roy hums sadly.

“It had a name too, that desert,” Seb continues, searching the ceiling for a memory. “And a weird one - something like... Silk-sees? Serk-sees? Or was it more of a "z" sound..."

Gabriella interrupts him, one of many times already. "We get it dear, the name was weird. Say, Roy, have you all picked out a name for the baby yet?"

Roy, slightly awkward but becoming familiar with these rapid changes in subject, stutters in response. "Ah- we do, actually-"

"C'mon Gabby, what d'you take us for?" Maes cuts him off, balking. "Of course we've got names picked out. If it's a boy, Elias. If it's a girl, Eleanor. Easy."

Gabriella laughs, shaking her bobbed hair. "Easy, huh?" she teases, "Sure it's easy, when it's more "el" names. Couldn't think of anything else?"

Maes blanches at her, sputtering again. "Hey- they're nice names! It'll be cute when they match with Elicia! Gracey likes it too!"

Gracia was giggling softly. "C'mon Mom, it's Yule Time. Lay off the teasing a little, yeah?"

"Aw- But it's so easy ," Gabriella says, smirking mischievously.

Sebastian, rolling his eyes at most of the exchange, turns back to Roy. "You're the one actually having the child - did you have any names in mind, Roy?"

Roy shrugs at him, pursing his lips. "Honestly? Not really. Naming things isn't really my strong suit."

"You could've asked me," Riza suddenly pipes up, leaning above them on the sofa with her elbows on the head-cushions - she's here early on in the week to help with party preparations.

"I would have suggested some good names," she says, pouting slightly.

Roy cocks his head to look at her, giving her a stink-eye. "You named yourself after a bird of prey and your dog after a violent weather pattern. Forgive me if I don't exactly trust your particular taste in names, Lieutenant."

Riza rolls her eyes. "Fair enough."

---

Another difference this year is the absence of Maes' family members - aside from one of his nicer cousins, none of the Hughes are here. There were a few phone calls giving well-wishes and happy-new-years a few weeks ago, but other than that, it's been radio silence from them.

It's fair to assume that this was foretold by a letter they received about a month prior - one that Maes frowned down at and said, "Hm. It's from my parents."

They had not heard from his parents, or most of his relatives, since Roy and Maes announced their retirement from the military and their romantic partnership thereafter (which didn't go into detail, but the fact that Roy had permanently moved into Maes' and Gracia's home should've been enough of a tip-off).

The letter spent the majority of that day laying on the kitchen counter, untouched - only towards the evening, after Gracia had retired to put Elicia to bed, did Maes finally open it.

Roy didn't get a chance to see its contents, but did witness Maes' expression darken considerably as he read it, and heard him mutter something about "lifestyle choices" and "unsightly partners" under his breath with intense disdain.

"Maes?" he'd asked him, out of concern, but his husband only spared him a glance before briskly turning and walking back into his office. Roy followed him, cautiously- and peered into the room soon enough to see him crumpling the letter into his fist, raising it to throw it into his trash can.

"Maes," he said again, softer this time. Maes lowered his arm, and turned to look at him fully - and Roy could more clearly see how his eyes burned with something cold and bitter.

Maes let out a long, angry breath through his nose, and a beat passed. "...You're lucky, in a way," he finally said. "You lost your parents before you got to know who they really were."

"Mm," Roy hummed, starting to understand this now.

Maes turned away, sighing again. "You never had to grow up and realize that you've been living with a pair of hypocrites all your life. Talking all the time about how much they loved you, how much they cared - but when you needed a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen, they pushed you away, told you to suck it up. Nothing you did was ever enough for them."

He unfurled the crumpled letter, stared at it. "I did everything they expected of me - I got good grades, I joined sports teams, I even got a girl and settled down. And I worked hard - I reached Major without ever even touching an Alchemy textbook, Roy, you know how much I busted my ass for that. And you know what they said to me? When I showed them my credentials? 'Oh, that's nice, but your cousin's a lawyer and makes even more money than that. Don't you think you could do better, dear?'" He mimicked a flighty, nasally voice, probably mocking his mother.

"And now, after all this time, they send me this shit- " And Maes slammed the letter onto his desk, violently, causing a whipping sound of paper-on-wood that made Roy flinch, but the suddenness of the act was what really made him shrink away - he rarely saw Maes so angry like this.

Maes, meanwhile, seemed to snap out of whatever rage-like stupor he was in once he realized Roy was frightened - he blinked, then started toward Roy and wrapped him up in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing Roy's hair. "I'm just- I'm so tired. The things they said about you..."

He took a breath, then drew away, giving Roy weak smile. "But it's fine. They're not coming to Yule with us anymore - and good riddance."

"They're not?" Roy wondered at him, recalling the very few times he'd seen Maes' family - who seemed like fairly well-off people of the upper middle-class, decent folk, if a bit stilted in their mannerisms. Maes never seemed comfortable around them, and he rarely spoke of them in all their time together - it seemed there'd been good reason for that.

"No, they aren't," Maes said, kissing at Roy's forehead again. "And you know what? I'm fucking relieved . This could actually be the best Solstice I've ever had, because for once I don't have to pretend that I'm happy around anyone."

He lowered his hands to Roy's stomach, looked at him softly. "Because I am. With both of you."

Roy had felt his eyes watering, at once heartbroken and brimming with joy for his dear husband, and he returned his affections with a long, tender kiss and embrace.

When they drew away, Maes asked him one last thing. "Roy- just do me a favor, okay?"

"Anything," Roy said.

"Keep me honest," Maes said, his expression soft, open, painfully vulnerable. "When I tell the kids I love them, make sure I mean it."

"Aw, Maes," Roy said, resting his head against Maes' chest. "Don't worry. You already do."

When Gracia heard the news later, she readily agreed with both ideas - good riddance to Hughes' family, and "Goodness' sakes, Maes, if you were any more earnest about your children, even I couldn't stand you."

---

The absence of Maes' family was not long missed - in their place are select members of Roy and Maes' former squadrons this year. They're a welcome presence in the house, and a great help with the preparations. Gracia's parents welcome them warmly - and are in agreement that Maes' family are better off gone, after hearing the news.

Some, like Armstrong, Maria, Fuery and Havoc, will only be here for several hours of Yule's Eve, planning to spend the holiday proper with their families; those without much of a family to go back to, like Riza, Breda and Falman, are here for the entire week; and those who are absent entirely are spending the extra time with loved ones who need it, which are Denny with his many younger siblings, and Sheska, who is staying with the Rockbells to offer her support.

Sheska even sent a letter in advance, and when an evening wound down and allowed time to spend on it, Maes reads it aloud to Gracia and Roy in the parlor:

A wonderful Solstice to you and your families, Mr. Hughes, Gracia, and everyone else. Special regards to Mustang and the new baby, I hope everything goes well. Miss Winry and her grandmother need all the help they can get after everything that's happened - you know, with Alphonse and that homonculus boy - I think they're all in need of a good Solstice. Rose and Paninya are here as well, and they send their regards. Miss Winry does too, and sends congratulations for the new baby to Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.

Maes frowns a little after reading the last line. "Nothing for the man actually giving us the baby," he mutters under his breath.

"Honey," Gracia whispers, catching his attention to shake her head at him. He looks at her, seated at his side on the couch, then looks to his other side, where Roy lays curled within his throw blankets against the armrest. He stares out at nothing, seeming to be in a low mood again, and Maes isn't sure if it's from the day wearing him out or his comment on the letter.

Maes lowers his eyes. "Sorry," he says.

Roy glances at him, then away, and just shrugs. "It's fine," he says distantly. "It's what I expected from her."

He's not talking about Sheska.

---

Days later, and it is finally Yule's Eve. The merriment in the household only grows as Fuery, Havoc, Maria and Armstrong arrive to partake in the festivities.

True to Roy's prediction, Fuery spends most of the evening deep in conversation with Sebastian about the technical wizardry of years past; Havoc enjoys playing Big Brother with Elicia and her little cousins; Maria aids in the last of the holiday dinner preparations, to the appreciation of Gabriella and her sisters.

Armstrong, meanwhile, does what he does best - being himself, as grand and boisterously as possible.

Early on, when his loud greetings rang out through the house and his massive frame approached Roy and Maes in the living room, a look of real, genuine terror flashed across Maes' face for a moment - and within the next moment, he'd whipped out a protective arm in front of Roy.

He said quickly, "M-Major! I would ask that you, uh- refrain from your usual form of affections, seeing Roy's current condition-"

Roy attempted to protest at the same time. "Wh- for goodness' sake Maes, I'm not made of glass -"

But both were drowned out by Armstrong's bellowing laughter. "Ah, please, no need to worry, sir! I wouldn't dream of laying hands upon your husband in such a state. I merely wished to extend my congratulations again - and a humble offer, if you do not mind."

He extended a massive hand forward, which Roy took, surprised at the man's gentleness in his grip, for once - at the same time he asks, "An offer, Major? What kind?"

Armstrong nods, and after exchanging less-gentle handshakes with Maes, replies, "In regards to your coming child, sirs - I've heard they will arrive very shortly! If you have need, the Armstrong family midwife and her assistants are eager and ready to help at a moment’s notice! They come highly recommended, believe me-"

He starts into what will no doubt be a tirade about the many good qualities of this midwife and her team, and how they assisted in bringing multiple generations of Armstrongs into existence, but Roy hurriedly gives him a polite shushing gesture and cuts him off.

"Ah- I'm sure she is, Major but uh- we have the midwife thing covered already, don't worry."

Armstrong stuttered mid-sentence, stared in confusion. "Ah- Oh. By whom, if I may ask?"

This would be answered just later that evening.

---

And sure enough, there is one last guest who has arrived fashionably late to the house - one that Roy has waited for anxiously.

When the doorbell rings and an all-too-familiar voice is heard across the living room, he lights up brighter than any flame could produce, and grunts his way to his feet to meet them at the door personally.

Shuffling in through the doorway, in a flurry of winter fur coats and bags, is a somewhat-portly woman of middle age, dark-haired and dark-eyed, well-dressed and made-up, with a beauty mark on one cheek. This woman is known to most as Madame Christmas, the owner of a once-prolific bar-and-brothel in East City; In reality, she is Chris Mustang, Roy’s aunt and foster mother.

She is the only living relative of his family, having survived either by miracle or her own wit; she took him in and raised him as her own, bringing him out of the orphanages and under her wing, in honor of her brother and sister-in-law; she and her girls gave him the ideal home and family to rediscover himself in the wake of losing of his parents; and they have taught him everything he knows about secrecy, subterfuge, and weaponizing one’s charms into a fine, precise point.

Her knowledge spans a grand swathe of subjects that most people would call “unsavory,” but among her clientele and employees, they are nothing less than essential. Among her skills is several years of experience in midwifery, and ensured that Roy’s mother had a safe, successful delivery on the day of his birth - she has, quite literally, known him for his whole life - so it is only appropriate for her to do the same for Roy and his own child all these years later.

In short, he would be nothing without her, so Roy he gives her the best hug he can muster, despite his large stomach getting in the way. But she squeezes back with just as much affection, even as she draws away with a sarcastic frown on her face as she looks upon him. Her first words to him are, "My goodness, Roy, you're huge ."

Roy snorts, then breaks down into a fit of giggles. Maes and Gracia laugh their way to the doorway to also greet Chris, along with several women that are both her fellow charges, and Roy’s adoptive sisters.

They’re equally surprised and delighted at Roy’s condition. “Oh my! You all must be so excited;” “Wow, you weren’t kidding, you look ready to pop!”; “Roy dear, you should really sit down…”

“She’s right, darling,” Chris says, agreeing with the last one. “You didn’t tell me you were this close! Goodness, didn’t I teach you any sense? Sit down, sit down, before you throw your back out…”

Roy, still laughing, lets himself be lead away and back to the sofa. “You did, Auntie, you did- It’s just- ah, it’s been too long. I missed you.”

And he means it - Chris and the girls were a constant well of support for him until recently, as when the string of serial killings and conspiracies started up a few years ago, Roy was quick to call her up and advise her to leave the country for their safety. Chris begrudgingly obeyed, moving out westward and re-establishing herself there as best she could. Now that things are relatively settled (finally) and changing for the better, she’s recently moved back to Amestris - just in time to spend their first, proper Solstice together.

“Hmph! Then you could have called or written me more often, you sap,” Chris retorts, but there’s rarely any bite to her banter.

“Calls don’t go out to Creta,” Roy says as he settles back into the sofa. “And I wrote you as often as I could, Auntie. It was, ah- pretty crazy for a while there. I’m sorry I didn’t write more.”

“I’ll say,” Chris says, rolling her eyes. “The Cretan newspapers were having field days with it. I almost started getting worried about you - then I heard you blew up the Führer.”

Roy laughs again. “I did, I did. That was… ah, man. There’s so much to tell you, Auntie.”

Chris smiles at him - a real, genuine smile - and takes his hand, gently, something she hasn’t done in a long time.

“Well, I’m here now, darling. Tell me all about it.”

---

And talk they did, for many hours - between introductions to Gracia’s family and Roy and Maes’ squadron members, the details of the past few years’ adventures, and plenty of embarrassing stories of Roy’s childhood, there was no shortage of conversation.

Soon enough, it is near-midnight - Armstrong, Fuery, Havoc and Maria bid their farewells and left long ago, the children have been put to bed, and most of Gracia’s family have retired for the night as well. Only Roy’s little family (minus Elicia) is still awake, bleary and yawning as they curl up together on the parlor sofa, still exchanging stories.

Chris, slightly buzzed from the wine, is still deep into the ‘embarrassing stories of Roy’s past’ part of their conversations. “I always knew you’d tie the knot with Maes someday, always knew,” she’s saying, side-hugging her adopted son and admiring the silver ring on his and Maes’ fingers. “It was just a matter of time - for you to get up your nerve, of course.”

“Oh, c’mon ,” Roy whines, suppressing a yawn at the same time. “I wasn’t nearly that bad. And you know there were other reasons I was hesitant.”

“I know, darling- but it’s still funny,” Chris says, smirking.

“Was he, now?” Maes says, grinning wolfishly. “I have an idea of how long you hid it from me, but I’m dying to hear your side of it, Ms. Mustang.”

“ Maes- ” Roy starts, but Chris leaps upon the chance before he can protest it.

“Oh, it was practically star-crossed ,” she waxes. “There were sparks from the moment you first met. He’d talk about you all the time when he called me from the Academy - as in, how much he hated you.”

Roy groans, and Maes throws back his head in laughter. “Ah, man- that checks out,” Maes wheezes. “I was a pretty big asshole back then.”

“ Was ,” Roy drawls sarcastically, earning him a playful jab in the shoulder from his husband.

“Shut up, I’m better now!”

“Debatable,” Gracia murmurs sleepily from the other end of the sofa.

“Don’t you two start again-”

“You three are adorable ,” Chris laughs. “I’ll admit, I was worried when you and Gracia hooked up and poor Roy was left out- but I’m glad it’s worked out now.”

Maes’ laughter grew uncomfortable. “Ah, well, I- I didn’t know. Or I wouldn’t open myself to it, I guess. I just- didn’t think it was an option at first, you know?”

“I know, dear,” Chris says. “I’m sure your family didn’t help there. We’ve all had our run-ins with conservatives - my brother probably would have balked at the idea if he were still here, rest his soul.”

“My father,” Roy muses at the mention. “Do you think… would he have accepted me, Auntie?” He asks with genuine curiosity, only tinged with sadness at its edges. Chris frowns, and thinks, and hugs Roy more closely.

“With time, darling, with time,” she says finally. “He was still a good man. And people change, they always do.”

“Yeah, we changed,” Maes says, after pecking Roy’s cheek with affection. “We went from hating each other’s guts to this . Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Yeah, Roy hums, growing quiet as he feels another pang from a fake contraction creeping upon him - he’s been dealing with them on and off all day, but they feel more intense than earlier in the week...

“And say, I wanted to ask,” Maes continues. “If you liked me for that long, why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I’m sure Ishval had to do with it, but-”

“That is part of it,” Roy murmurs. “But- hm. It’s uh, hard to explain,” he trails off, suppressing a grunt of pain.

Chris eyes him for a moment, then takes over in his explanation. “You see, Roy was in a very… tenuous place in his life, you could say. When he started attending the Academy, he’d only recently changed his name and started his medications, as I recall.”

She exchanges glances with Roy, who nods to confirm this.

“-Oh,” Maes says. “So you were still… in-between, kind of?”

“In a sense, yes,” Chris replies. “Physically and emotionally. Very insecure, very frightened, poor thing. He’d call me many times to talk about how scared he was of anyone finding out about his ‘secret’. And we all know how the military tends to treat people who are… different .” She says the word with a disgusted sneer.

Maes hums, nodding. “Yeah, yeah… didn’t want to get too close to anyone, then.”

“That, and he couldn’t allow himself to,” Chris continues. “Opening up his heart to anyone would risk his career, maybe his life, but most of all, it would’ve betrayed everything he was building up about himself. Admitting to being in love with you, a man , would’ve made him no different than the young lady he once resembled.”

She shrugs, frowning slightly. “...That was misguided, obviously, but like I said, he was young and insecure. And, obviously, Ishval didn’t help with that.”

Maes nods slowly, frowning. “Mm. I see.”

He looks back to Roy, seeing something pained in his husband’s face, and huddles closer to wrap his arms around his shoulders and press his face into his dark hair. “But I wish I could… y’know, really understand, completely. So I can be better for you,” he murmurs softly.

Roy snuggles against him, his warmth a small balm for his pain, both from his stomach and the memories. “That’s okay,” he whispers. “Just trying helps. Just being here, for me- that helps.”

He feels another pang, more acute this time, and can’t quite suppress a groan from it. Chris sits up at his other side. “Darling, what’s wrong? Are you-”

“False alarms, Auntie, false alarms,” Roy says hurriedly, a little strained. “It’ll pass in a minute-”

“Roy, you’re due at any moment , Gracia says, now sounding more awake. “Those might not be false anymore.”

“Hey hey, easy now,” Maes says, supporting Roy against him. “I know I kept joking about the baby being the best Yule present, but I wasn’t serious- ”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Roy cuts in, leaning away, breathing easier since the pain was now fading. “It’s passing now, I’m okay- just like I said.”

There’s a beat of audible relief between everyone. Chris shakes her head, still frowning with concern. “Still, too close for comfort- you should really get some rest, dear. It’s late anyhow.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Maes says. “C’mon honey, let’s go to bed already.”

Roy gives a small sigh, mainly at the prospect of trying to stand up again. “Alright, alright…”

---

Maes was a light sleeper for as long as he could remember. This was useful after becoming a soldier, needing to be alert at all times on the warfront - it was not useful after he came back to city life, gained a stressful, overworking job, and was expected to still function as a normal human being. After that, he was nearly an insomniac.

He has spent many long, lonely nights alone in his own bed, with his own wife and child - he has spent countless more before he was married at all. Being married a second time, to a second partner, has not lessened this - but it has made it a little easier. Because at the very least, he can be comfortably trapped between two partners and feel safe, no matter what his paranoid brain tells him, and lying still and quiet between them for long enough can finally set him drifting into unconsciousness.

So it’s just his damn luck that on this particular night, Yule’s Eve, of all evenings, he is tired and content enough to actually fall asleep within a reasonable span of time, and sleep soundly - and then be rudely shaken awake only a few hours later by a trembling hand and distressed voice.

“Maes- Maes, Gracey, wake up. You were right, I think- ugh- I think it’s coming-”

“Ngh- Roy?” Maes drawls out sleepily. “What- What’s coming?”

“The baby , you idiot, we- ow- we need to go- ”

“Coming…?” Gracia yawns awake. “What- Oh, oh god, Roy-”

Gracia’s form jerks to an upright position at his other side, jostling Maes further, and now there is no hope of him returning to that blessed space of mind where he is genuinely sleepy - instead it is replaced with panic over the realization that Roy is in labor.

“ Shit- ” he curses, and all but leaps to his feet from their shared bed - tight quarters in an already-small guest room - and haphazardly gets himself dressed as Gracia eases Roy to his feet, taking him through the breathing exercises they’d been practicing for months in preparation for this. They ease the pain, allegedly.

Maes can’t really tell as they shuffle out into the hallway, watching Roy double over from the contractions when they come, wishing he could do something, anything - he hates feeling helpless, and didn’t enjoy this when Elicia was born.

They turn a corner towards the living room, and he nearly jumps out of his skin - coming down another hallway is Chris and a few of her girls, wearing robes and holding oil lamps.

Chris’s eyes widen at the sight of them, and she lifts her lantern to look better. “It’s happening?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Maes and Gracia say, almost in unison.

“Hmph! I knew it. C’mon then, we’ll take my car, it’s roomier.”

---

The next several hours are a blur, between the haze of pain Roy is experiencing and the panic everyone else is having. The car ride consisted of Gracia sitting by him in the back seats, breathing in time with him in their exercises, and Chris at his other side, instructing him to rock himself to and fro to ease the pressure. Maes and one of his sisters, Bridget he recalls, sat at the front of the car, struggling with maps and directions in the pitch-black of the night, toward the Central hospital where his specialized doctor would ensure a discreet delivery.

There was a lot of yelling and cursing, mostly from Maes against Central’s ‘backwards-ass street system,’ but at some point they finally arrived and Maes all but launched himself from the driver’s seat to run inside and schedule with the doctor. Soon, Roy was being lowered into a wheelchair and sped along into an operating room by a nurse, meeting with his doctor, and then entering the painful, arduous process of childbirth.

He tries not to dwell on anything - if he does, it’s on the small things. Gracia and Chris squeezing his hands as they lead him through various pain-relieving positions; Maes kissing his sweating forehead and muttering small prayers; everyone’s praise and encouragement at even the smallest amounts of progress.

In short, it’s as awful as Gracia warned him it would be, even with painkillers - but eventually, blessedly, he hears the tiny cries of the child he’s brought into existence, and when they are cleaned and brought into his waiting arms, he is told they are a healthy baby boy. As planned, he is named Elias Mustang Hughes.

Poor Elicia - she was looking forward to a sister.

---

The golden light of morning peaks over dark winter clouds, and gently streams through the plain curtains of the hospital room - morning is here, on the Winter Solstice, and Roy’s family has welcomed the birth of their son.

There was a flurry of emotions within and without him as Roy first held his child in his arms - rampant thoughts of “oh my god I’m holding a tiny person in my arms that I made inside my body and he’s here and he’s mine ”; Maes kissing him over and over, practically sobbing with happiness; Gracia all but climbing into the bed with them to hug him, also crying; Chris nearly shoving them both aside to get a closer look at her new grand-nephew and saying, “Oh, Roy… he looks like your mother, a little.” And that got Roy’s waterworks flowing as well.

Things have calmed down by now - Gracia has taken Elias aside (making Roy begrudgingly let go of him) to feed him milk formula she’d prepared ahead of time, seeing as Roy was not equipped to do so; Maes is pacing the room and whispering curses at himself for forgetting his camera in all the rush; Chris has pulled up a chair by Roy’s bedside to tell him more stories about his parents and the days he himself was an infant.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, and it creaks open - a nurse peeks in, saying “Excuse me - Hughes family? You have visitors- erm, a lot of them.”

“Oh, uh- let them in,” Maes stammers as he goes to the door, and he opens it fully.

Once again there a flurry of activity, for as soon as the door is thrown open, a small throng of people and things make their way inside the room. Gracia’s parents and aunts, Elicia and her cousins, Roy’s sisters, and Riza, Breda and Falman, all file inside with armfuls of boxes, baskets, and other containers filled to the brim with Yule decorations - the decorations from the house, Roy realizes, as they set about placing them around the hospital room in a similar manner to how they were back at the house.

Sebastian, broad and strong, even carries the entire Yule tree into the room with Breda and Falman’s assistance, setting it in the corner and piling the wrapped presents underneath it, just like it was in the parlor.

The nurses and doctors, of course, are none too happy about this; neither is Gracia, because the noise and commotion makes little Elias start crying again, and she has to place him back into Roy’s arms to calm him. Gabriella apologizes for everyone, but soon the work is done and things have settled again.

Bridget, who was nowhere to be seen during his labor, Roy realizes belatedly, turns to them and smiles triumphantly after placing the last of the decorations. “Sorry for the mess,” she says. “I called the house while you were in delivery to tell them the news, and Ms. Gabby had the best idea - since you guys would be stuck here and missing the party, we brought the party to you !”

Roy doesn’t know what to say to this; Gracia’s anger is calmed, but still thinks the whole thing’s a bit excessive (but it is something her mother would absolutely do); Maes is completely flabbergasted, mouth hanging open stupidly.

This is quickly rectified by Elicia approaching her mother and father to berate them - “You made me miss the baby! Why didn’t you wake me?!”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Gracia tells her, lifting her into her arms to make up for it with hugs. “But it was the middle of the night, and we were in a hurry.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it anyway,” Maes says nonchalantly. “Just a lot of screaming and crying. But look, honey- this is your baby brother, Elias.”

Elicia stares at the bundle in Roy’s arms - then pinches with disgust. “I thought it was a girl- and he’s so ugly .”

“He was just born , dear, give him a break,” Roy says tiredly, but he’s laughing too. “You looked a lot like this when you were born too, as I recall.”

“Gross!” Elicia cries, shaking her pigtails, and Maes and Gracia are laughing as well.

And the rest of that day was just as enjoyable - the other guests acquainted themselves with little Elias and extended praise and congratulations to the family; presents were given out and opened with much joy and appreciation; food and drink was brought and shared over happy conversations; even music was brought in the form of Riza’s portable radio to smooth out the atmosphere with pleasant, quiet jazz.

The Yule gifts ran the gamut from clothes and candy to tools and appliances, some a perfect match to their recipients, others not so much, but nonetheless appreciated - after all, the most important aspect of the gift-giving was the well-wishes given alongside the physical presents. According to Sebastian, the ancient tribes of Amestris who started this tradition exchanged nothing more than small good-luck charms under their trees, for hope to survive the rest of the bitter winters.

For indeed, there is an overwhelming atmosphere of hope in this hospital room - for love, living, and a brighter future, especially after the strife of the past several years. For Roy, this is most evident in the new life he now holds in his arms.

---

Nearly a month later, the Hughes family have long since returned to their home with little Elias in tow - and as Gracia also warned, it is very tiring to care for a newborn. Especially with a somewhat-bratty four-year-old who must now deal with the reality of no longer being the sole center of attention from her parents.

But between the three of them, it’s manageable - two people to exchange shifts of sleeping and tending to the baby, a third person to tend to Elicia’s needs.

It was harder in the beginning, with Roy not only being new at this, but also very drained from the effort of delivery - luckily they received helpful visitors every few days after the Solstice, in the form of Gracia’s relatives, Chris and the girls, or members of Roy and Maes’ squadrons. For those who were absent, it also serves as their first opportunity to see little Elias and extend their congratulations (Armstrong, in his usual form, burst into tears at the sight of the child, he was so happy).

So far, only Elicia is unimpressed with her baby brother - on top of not being a girl, she complains of his small size and inability to walk, dashing her hopes of a new playmate anytime soon, and that he does nothing but sleep, eat, cry, and soil his diapers.

Again, her parents must remind her that he is mere weeks old, and she was much the same at that age. And again, she does not believe them. Ah, children.

One morning, finally feeling hale and healthy enough, Roy spends a few hours sitting outside on the porch with his coffee, watching morning traffic go by as the sun rises over Central’s skyline.

And it’s strange - he feels kind of empty, somehow, despite how full his life is. He must be slipping back into his low moods again - Gracia warned of postpartum depression as well. He tries not to dwell on it, as usual - he sips his sweetened coffee, watches the sunlight dance upon steel and wood rooftops, and wonders what sort of person his son will grow up to be.

He can’t settle on an answer - who could, with how broad the possibilities could be - but he does hope beyond all hopes, that Elias, and Elicia as well, will be better than the terrible mistakes their fathers have committed and still live with.

There is a shifting behind him suddenly, and the opening and closing of the front door - Roy turns to see Maes joining him on the porch, pulling up a deck chair beside him.

“Good mornin,” Maes says, pecking Roy’s cheek. “You’re up early. Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Roy says, shrugging. “How are the kids doing?”

“Eli’s been fed, so he’s down for the count for now,” Maes says. “And Elicia’s still sleeping. Gracey’s tucking in for a nap while it’s safe, and sent me to check on you.”

“Oh,” Roy says. “Well, like I said, I’m fine, so…”

“Are you?” Maes asks, eyes searching. “I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you had a rough time of it- if anything’s bothering you, you can tell me, hun. You know I’m always here.”

Roy frowns, and attempts to deflect him again - but as usual, his husband’s pretty, pleading eyes make it hard to keep up any facade for very long.

He sighs sadly. “I don’t know- I’m still tired, I guess. And I keep thinking…”

“Of what?”

Roy pauses, thinks for a long while, bothering his lower lip with his teeth again.

“Maes,” he says finally. “What are we going to tell them? About us, and what we’ve done?”

He swallows, thick with emotion suddenly. “How- how do I tell my son about Ishval ?”

Maes’ smile fades, his mouth a thin line, and he sits back, turning away. He searches the skyline for a small eternity, eyes squinting, as if searching for the answer. But eventually, he closes his eyes and exhales, and turns back to Roy.

“We’ll tell them everything,” he says solemnly. “The good, the bad- all of it. They deserve to know. We have to be better than the old bastards at Headquarters.”

“Mm,” Roy hums sadly. He’s right. He usually is.

“And then,” Maes says, taking Roy’s hand, squeezing it. “We’ll tell them to be better than us.”

He meets his eyes at that, and Roy can see something misty behind Maes’ glasses - and feels a prickling in his own. He dips his head and leans in, letting Maes hug him by the shoulders and lean against him in kind.

They watch the rest of the sunrise together. They hope that someday, their children will see something similar - a sun rising on a better world.

END.

#hyuroi #hyuroigracia #trans pregnancy #jeminy3 art #jeminy writes

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profoundnet · 5 years

Text

Profound Member Post - February 2019

Header by @cryptomoon and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirely during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR FEBRUARY 2019!

Masterpost below the cut.

MaggieMaybe160 - @maggiemaybe160 - MaggieMaybe160 (Pillowfort)

Listen To Me

Summary: Amara was given the thing she needed most so she gives Dean what he needs. What if John Winchester came back instead of Mary?

Tags: Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst

SFW

Wandering Angel

Summary: From a prompt: When Sam and Dean died, Cas was still exiled.

Tags: Major Character Death mentioned, Heavy Angst, Song Fic

SFW

Come Into My Office

Summary: Castiel goes to work for Sandover when Zachariah kidnaps and brainwashes Sam and Dean. An office romance blooms when Dean has to call Castiel into his office.

Tags: Episode: It's a Terrible Life, Explicit Sex, Top Cas/Bottom Dean, Fluff/Smut/Light Angst

NSFW

The Valentine’s Date

Summary: Cas sets up the perfect date to tell Dean how he feels on Valentine's Day.

Tags: Season 14 Spoilers, Love Confessions, Angst

SFW

Reprogrammed

Summary: Castiel can't tell what's real and what's the brainwashing from Naomi.

Tags: Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Episode: Goodbye Stranger, Heavy Angst

SFW

The Secrets That You Keep

Summary: Dean Winchester is allergic to shellfish.

Tags: Major Character Death, Allergies, Heavy Angst

SFW

I Am The Nightmare

Summary: Dean has been having night terrors and Cas is trying to help him as they become more dangerous.

Tags: Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Real Events

SFW

Defeat the Night||BAMF!Destiel

Summary: Supernatural Fan Video Tags: Demon Dean, BAMF SFW

casbean - @casbeanwrites - casbean

‘Til Dreams Do Us Part

Summary: Dean’s woken up in a hospital before. He doesn’t like it, but it’s part of the job. It happens. And he doesn’t mind it as much when the first thing he sees is his husband’s face. Castiel looks terribly grim, until he notices that Dean is awake. “Heya, sunshine,” Dean grins. His vision is still a little blurry and he flexes his fingers -- they still move. So do his toes. Good news. “Dean!” Sam enters his field of vision, the weary expression on his face morphing into relief. “Thank God, we didn’t know if--” “Hey, I’m fine.” Dean manages to stretch out his hand and pat Cas’ arm. “What happened?” “You don’t remember?” “Remember what?” “The Djinn got you. He kept you for five days, and your dream made him so strong he almost killed us both.”

Tags: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Djinn fic, Hurt/Comfort, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending

NSFW

sharing

Summary: “This isn’t how I imagined we’d first share a bed,” Dean lets out without thinking about it.

Tags: Case Fic, Sharing a Bed, Mutual PiningHurt/Comfort, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Canon Compliant

SFW

spunk

Summary: “The spell calls for… angelic… um. Spunk.” “Spunk?” “Yeah, y’know.” “I don’t,” Cas frowns. “Sperm, Cas. We need your jizz for the spell.”

Tags: Fuck Or Die, Mutual Pining, First Time, First Kiss, Blow Jobs, Case Fic, Canon Compliant

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unlucky swap

Summary: “Dude, what the fuck did I say?” Sam huffs. And rolls his eyes. And despite the fact that it’s been over two weeks, Dean’s heart still squeezes at how Cas that gesture is. Because, well, it is Cas. Just stuck in the sasquatch body of Dean’s humongous brother.

Tags: Body Swap, Established Relationship, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Case Fic

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Duck and Berries

Summary: A story about a meet cute, a duck confit, and a small matter of mistaken identity.

Tags: First Meetings, Falling In Love, team switch, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending

NSFW

MalMuses - @malmuses - MalMuses (Pillowfort)

The Greatest International Love Story the World Has Ever Seen

Summary: Dean wasn’t the type of person who did this kind of thing. He just wasn’t. GISH?? Ugh. The whole thing was just further proof that Dean would do anything his brother wanted him to do. Why else would he be in a Stormtrooper costume, calling up his ex-girlfriend for a private yoga class? Had he been stuck in a rut that long? Given that he’d been pining for the same freakin’ guy, his professor and coworker no less, for three long years… maybe. Cas was definitely the type of person who did this kind of thing, not that many people knew that. He was one of the most well-respected professors at KSU. His students and coworkers didn’t need to know that he was captain of a GISH team, or that he knitted kinky accessories and made art with his online friends. His TA certainly didn’t need to know either. Just professionalism, of course. Nothing at all to do with the failed attempt at a relationship, three years of pining, and frequent inappropriate daydreams. A two-person love triangle with online friendships, costumes, and a lot of glitter.

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Two person love triangle, Comedy of Errors, GISH, Mutual Pining, Dean Cas Pinkest 2019

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With accompanying art by blueeyesandpie (@blueeyesandpie)

drawlight - @drawlight - drawlight (Pillowfort)

The Crane In White

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a little crane who fell in love with a human. He prayed every night to be made human to be with his love. Once upon a time, Dean Winchester finds a white crane.

Tags: Fairytale, Falling In Love, Romance, Creature Castiel, Pining

NSFW

EllenOfOz - @ellen-of-oz - EllenOfOz

Dark Blue, Dark Blue

Summary: Written for Dean/Cas Pinefest 2019. In late 2006, Castiel and Dean are in the same guild and raid team in the online game, Moondoor. They only know each other by their character names: Niteryder and Thorsangel, but they hang out and chat whenever they’re not raiding. Dean is baffled though—no matter how much time they spend talking online, Angel never reveals anything about himself. That’s because Castiel is in hiding. At school he hides behind his emo image and stays as invisible as he can, but online he’s got to be extra-vigilant. He can’t reveal anything about himself to Ryder, as much as he might like to—doing so would risk bringing trouble down on himself and his mom. There’s something about Ryder that makes him easy to talk to, though. But outside of the game, ghosts from Castiel’s family’s past are out for revenge, and going back to Lawrence, KS to visit his friend Meg could put him in danger.

Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, MMORPGs, Gamer Castiel, Emo Castiel, Mutual Pining, Bi-Curious Dean Winchester, Long-Distance Friendship, Friends to Lovers

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deaniewithalittleweanie - @deaniewithalittleweanie - deaniewithalittleweanie

Valentine’s Day 2019

Summary: Dean and Sam find a strange case in Chicago about a couple who confessed their long concealed crushes on one another and both had heart attacks during the throes of passion. Castiel tags along to investigate.

Tags: First Kiss, First time, Love Confessions, Case Fic

NSFW

Building Up

Summary: As Dean and Castiel's relationship progresses, Castiel realizes that Dean hasn't exactly had safe practices in the BDSM world, and now it's Castiel's job to show him the ropes...pun intended.

Tags: Dom Castiel, Sub Dean, BDSM, Punishment Scene, Aftercare

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NadiaHart - @hartlessfiction - NadiaHart (Pillowfort)

Thunder in The Library

Summary: Castiel’s work as the Head Librarian of The Grand Library of Magic and Lost Artifacts has him away on a last minute trip for far longer than he anticipated. By the time he returns, there’s a certain book who’s less than pleased with his inability to keep his word.

Tags: Magical Castiel, magic is known, Curses, Cursed Dean Winchester, Magical Dean Winchester, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Librarian Castiel (Supernatural)

SFW

robotsnchicks - @robotsnchicks - robotsnchicks

Gimme The News

Summary: Dr. Novak crosses his arms and glares at Dean from across the room. “If you think there’s a foreign object lodged in your rectum then I suggest you go to the emergency room so they can take an x-ray and properly address the situation.” Dean sucks his lower lip in and then releases it into a pout. “Aw c'mon doc. I've got a ten dollar copay here. If I go to the hospital I'm looking at a couple hundred minimum.” He spends some time admiring the strong length of the doctor's hands. “Besides I'd much rather have my favorite doctor’s fingers in me than some stranger at the ER.”

Tags: Doctor!Cas, Patient!Dean, Medical Kink, Humor and Smut

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Aceriee - @missaceriee

Grand Gestures

Summary: Valentine’s Day art

SFW

EmiliaOagi - EmiliaOagi

Presenting Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean finally start presenting his secondary gender, and Castiel has an unexpected reaction to Dean's new scent. A somewhat different take on a/b/o, set in a canon-divergent universe somewhere around season 8/9

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel

NSFW

elanor-n-evermind - @elanor-n-evermind - elanor-n-evermind

Pride Flags of the Oddly Shaped Empty A/B/O Universe

Summary: Secondary pride flags inspired by Jemariel's fic Oddly Shaped Empty

Tags: A/B/O dynamics, genderqueer, beta Dean, alpha Castiel

SFW

iCeDreams - iCeDreams

Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx

Summary: Dean's love language is told not in words, but in songs. In the notes of his favorite rock band and the rhythm of their melodies. His longest unfinished work is composed of Led Zeppelin songs, chosen for the feelings they evoke. It's Dean's life, reflected into one mix and shared carefully in hopes that he would be heard and understood.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Inspired by Music, John Winchester's A+ Parenting

SFW

Darmys - Darmys

Long Road Home: Unto the Breach

Summary: Sam and Dean set out on a journey of danger and discovery. Joining forces with a band of outcasts and rebels, they plan to strike a blow for freedom against the vast and powerful empire which stole Bobby from them. This is the second part of a massive space opera trilogy. Based on the original work of Alis A. Rasmussen.

Tags: Alternate Universe - The Highroad Trilogy, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Past Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Past Dean Winchester/Nick Munroe, Robot!Baby, Canon-Typical Deaths, Canon-Typical Violence, Referenced Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Racism, Revolution

SFW

Salt-And-Silver - Salt-And-Silver

The Thief

Summary: The Empty’s threats echoed through his mind. Every rare happy moment, clouded with the reminder that he couldn’t let himself feel too much.

Tags: Major Character Death, One Shot, Heavy Angst, Angst & Tragedy, Love Confessions

SFW

supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic - supernatural9917

Into This

Summary: Dean is finally going to confess his love to his best friend. He gets quite a bit more than he bargained for. Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018. Square fill: 'I didn't know you were into this.'

Tags: AU, Friends to Lovers, Cas is a professional dom, mention of past Castiel/Meg, mention of Castiel/others in a professional D/s context, These two idiots have been pining for years, Light Dom/sub

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De-stressing Mr Smith

Summary: Dean Smith's stoner hippie neighbour Castiel thinks Dean is wound up way too tight, and offers him a couple of different methods to de-stress. Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018. Square fill: Endverse!Cas/Dean Smith Tags: Endverse Cas/Dean Smith, Castiel Acts Like Endverse Castiel, Dean Smith, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life Sort Of, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors

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For Science

Summary: Dean signs up to take part in a science experiment studying brain activity during arousal and orgasm. Jerking off to porn for money? Sounds like his dream job! Things get a little more complicated when the person running the study turns out to be his secret crush, Cas. Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018. Square filled: For science.

Tags: for science, Exhibitionist Dean Winchester, Science, Scientist Castiel, Accidental Voyeurism that's a little bit on purpose

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Double Deaned

Summary: Tomorrow, they're gonna kill the devil. Tonight... well, they've got other plans. Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018. Square filled: Endverse Sandwich (2014!Dean/2014!Cas/2009!Dean)

Tags: Endverse sandwich, Threesome - M/M/M, Angst, Endverse Dean is a dick, implied breath play

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And the Academy Award Goes To....

Summary: It's Oscar season! Will the Academy give Whisper Its Name the recognition it deserves? A Red Carpet Chronicles timestamp.

Tags: Red Carpet Chronicles, Timestamp, Alternate Universe - Actors, Oscars, Chick-Flick Moments, Fluff, Mountains and mountains of fluff, Cas is so proud

SFW

Accompanying art by delicious-irony

dean-cas-in-the-impala - @dean-cas-in-the-impala - dean-bangs-cas-in-the-impala

Fortunato

Summary: Cas finds a kitten. Dean is not happy. But for how long?

Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Romance, Domestic Destiel, Destiel in the bunker, kitten fic

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Will You Bee Mine?

Summary: Whatever Castiel bakes just tastes heavenly.

Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff

SFW

insominia - @a-insominia - insominia

Roadside Assistance

Summary: Dean Winchester is probably the most decent human being Castiel has ever met, not to mention gorgeous. But, Castiel has more baggage than an airport terminal and Dean's only being kind because Castiel broke down in a snowstorm and nothing is going to happen. Probably nothing.

Tags: AU - Modern Universe, Attempted Kidnapping, Strangers to Lovers, Love at First Sight, Fluff and Smut

NSFW

My Brother, Dean

Summary: Sam Winchester doesn't know much about Dean's secret other-half. He only has half a name to go on 'Cas'. Whoever she is, she's probably a gorgeous brunette who loves beer and pie and Sam doesn't care that Dean wants to keep her a secret, he's just glad his brother is happy. It was going to happen eventually and Dean invites Sam out, probably with an eye to introducing them at last. Nothing goes to plan and it turns out Sam knows nothing.

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Coming Out, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Implied Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Family Fluff

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Chick-Flick Moment

Summary: Dean wants to do something nice for Cas, but what do you get an angel of the lord to show your appreciation? Enter: Sam, with the great idea of 'how about you ask him if there's anything he wants?' Which is fine until Cas says, 'I want a chick-flick moment.' But Dean said he'd do anything and he intends to deliver.

Tags: Date Night, Romance, Fluff

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I'm Just Not Myself (When You're Away)

Summary: It's been three years now and Dean hasn't said a word. He left so much unsaid so now he says nothing.

Tags: Angst, Post-Canon, Forgetful Dean Winchester, Growing Old, SFW

The Hunter’s Church

Summary: The gates of heaven are closed to Castiel and not even his voice can penetrate it. After the Winchesters have passed Castiel still hunts and the new hunters sometimes pray to the legendary guardian angel of hunters. He always comes when they call and all he ever asks in return is that when they pray they pass on a message - I'm safe and I love you.

Tags: Future Fic, Post-Canon, Family Feels, Angst and Feels

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All in a Name

Summary: It's 5 am and Castiel wants a coffee. It's surely not an unreasonable request.

Tags: AU - Coffee Shop, Meet-Cute, First meetings, fluff

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Fifty Shades of Cas

Summary: Castiel asked Dean to show him what 'Fifty Shades of Grey' meant. Dean has only the vaguest idea what those excuse-for-soft-porn-in-chick-flicks are actually about but he's not one to back down from a challenge. Unfortunately for him, Castiel knows exactly what 'Fifty Shades of Grey' means and is happy to illustrate the gaps in his knowledge.

Tags: Dom/Sub Play, Fifty Shades of Grey Bashing, Misunderstandings, Frottage, Oral Sex, Restraints

NSFW

zipegs - @ghstfcers - zipegs

Refraction

Summary: A collection of 100-word drabbles as prompted by the Profound Bond Discord’s weekly challenge. Each chapter will correspond to a one-word prompt, with at least one stand-alone drabble per chapter.

SFW

Like Salvation

Summary: That’s the kicker, isn’t it? The moment Dean wants to keep fighting is the moment it’s no longer an option.

Tags: Episode: s14e12 Prophet and Loss, 14x12 coda, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, First Kiss, cas and dean get the emotional moment they deserve

SFW

PallasPerilous -@pallasperilous - PallasPerilous

Twenty Questions

Category: General

Summary: Dean is AWOL, so Cas rides shotgun. Sam does his best to fill the silence with an entirely academic inquiry into the nature of Enochian pronouns and their relation, or lack thereof, to the gender of human vessels.

...it's more fun than it sounds.

Tags: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Ficlet, Angel Gender, Angel True Forms, POV Sam, Conversations in the Impala

SFW

Demon!Castiel

Category: General

Summary: Demon!Castiel for @bisexualdemondean

Tags: Demon!Castiel, AU, tailored suiting is hot

SFW

Canadduh - @canadduh - canadduh (Pillowfort)

Never, Always, Forever

Summary: He knew that drinking games were bad news. Especially drinking games that involved him, Cas, and a few too many shots of tequila.

Tags: Never Have I Ever, Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Angst, Post-Coital Cuddling, Come Eating

NSFW

#profoundnet monthly masterpost #member post #members post #profoundnet #deancasreclist #february masterpost #member fic #member art

9 notes · View notes

spartanguard · 6 years

Photo

chasing gold

captain swan figure skating AU. I started plotting this years ago, but the Olympics paired with the discovery of Hubbell and Donohue finally gave me the push to finish it. I know I’m not the only one who’s done this, but I spent the last week consumed by this and had to let it out.

11k | rated PG, but coarse language | AO3

2018

Emma had to catch her breath, not for the first time this week. She was here—really here! All around her was the din of the crowd speaking countless languages, the chill air of the rink, and that iconic five-ringed logo. As she stared at it where it was painted at center ice, she pinched herself through her bejeweled costume.

The dream had finally come true. She was competing in the Olympics. This wasn’t even the first time she’d taken the ice here—the third occasion out of three, actually—but there was some truth to the saying “saving the best for last”—or at least, the most important. They were minutes away from taking the ice in the pairs’ free skate competition, sitting in second place with the gold medal easily within grasp.

It was hard to believe that not even two years ago, there was a moment when this all seemed impossibly out of reach. But honestly, that made this all the sweeter, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, or with any other partner at her side.

2016

"Bastard!" Emma shouted, slamming her hand against the locker. "That no-good, fucking bastard!"

"Emma, calm down."

"How am I supposed to calm down? How can he do this, on the day we're supposed to start training again?"

A text. That was all she'd gotten from Neal to let her know that it was over. They'd skated together for 7 years, won two US championships, and just finished 4th at Worlds. They were already a favorite to medal at the PyeongChang Olympics, even if that was a couple years away.

But just like that, he leaves her for another skater, Tamara something-or-other. Saying that he's "only thinking of his future" or some bullshit.

"This is bullshit!"

What no one else knew was that he wasn't just leaving her as a skating partner; he was leaving her altogether. They'd kept their romance on the down-low, even from Ingrid, their coach; so this was a double crowbar to both knees.

"Emma, we'll figure it out." How Ingrid could keep her cool right now, Emma couldn’t understand, but she supposed that was why some called the woman “the Snow Queen.”

Unable to deal with the rage-fueled adrenaline coursing through her body, Emma stormed out of the locker room toward the ice. (Of course she already had her skates on by the time he bothered to text.) She barely registered Ingrid's shouts of "Emma, wait! Be careful! You could hurt yourself!" as she took to the fresh, frozen plane.

After a few warmup laps at breakneck speeds, she did a few spins before heading into jumps; that was usually how she worked off anger. First, a couple axels, then into toe loops; she nailed a few doubles before she realized she was being watched. She and Neal weren't the only ones who trained in Storybrooke, but she'd never seen this dark-haired guy here before. Whatever. Let him watch.

She continued on through salchows and flips before working on her loops. After landing a particularly nice one, the stranger began to applaud. She rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Trying to practice here."

"I see that, love. And doing quite well you are."

She glanced over at the man, registering the familiar accent and not sure how she didn't recognize him in the first place: Killian Jones, the poster boy of figure skating. It was said that no one could resist his combination of blue eyes, scruff, and skating skills.

But Emma just gagged. Ugh. He was the last person she wanted to see today.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, hands on hips as she came to a stop in front of the boards he was leaning over (and kicking up extra snow in frustration).

“It’s nice to see you too, Swan,” he replied, far more polite than she felt like being. He was right, that it had been a while since they’d seen each other—not since his last partner (and girlfriend), Milah Gold, had tragically died of an aneurysm in practice a few years ago and he’d gone solo. And honestly, she was fine with that. She’d always gotten on well with Milah whenever they saw them in international competition, but Killian? Not as much, not with his cocky demeanor and the way he flirted with anything in a skirt and skates. It was too much like someone she was trying not to think about.

Apparently, the feeling was not mutual, and he continued to be a gentleman. “You skated fantastic at Worlds,” he commented.

“Thanks. You too.” Though he’d only been a singles skater for a couple years, he still managed to take 6th place for the UK. It was impressive. And she probably would have told him then, had she not been still avoiding him, while also spending every free moment either training or taking advantage of exploring her hometown of Boston with Neal. If only she’d known��

“Where’s Cassidy?” Killian’s innocent question broke her train of thought and soured her already-awful mood; she couldn’t even reminisce on what should have been a highlight of her career now without thinking of that yellow-bellied asshole.

“Fuck if I know,” she muttered. “Wherever he and his new partner are training.”

Jones’ eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Are you serious?” Emma answered by staring at the ice and stabbing it with her toepick. “What a monumental arse.”

“Takes one to know one,” she spat back, without thinking. He visibly deflated at that, and she felt kind of bad. But only a little.

“Aye, you’re probably right,” he conceded, surprisingly genuine, as he stood up and grabbed his skates from the bench behind him. “Right then, I’ll leave you to it. I’m training here now, so...see you around.” And he took off without another glance.

As she watched him walk away, part of her screamed to apologize; her shit mood didn’t have to become his. But the other part—the part that was angry and was okay with feeding that anger, at least for today—reminded her that she didn’t need Killian, or Neal, or any guy. Maybe she could try her hand at singles, too—that was how she started way back when, right? As long as she was skating, what did it matter?

Turned out, it mattered a lot. Ingrid fully supported her rash decision to give singles a try, even if Emma hadn’t skated on her own since high school. Her friend Elsa, who trained with her and Ingrid in Storybrooke (but skated for Norway), was right on board and giving her tips. But after only a week, Emma felt a sense of loneliness sink in that she hadn’t felt since she was a kid in a group home. The ice just felt too empty with no one else there. She tried to find some sort of empowerment in that—be the one to fill it up, or some other cheesy endearment—but she knew it wasn’t that. It just felt...off.

But she’d be damned if she admitted it. Emma Swan didn’t give up. That’s why she was here, at the rink at 10 on a Tuesday night, trying her damnedest to get her triple toe loop. She would need that if she wanted even a hope of succeeding on her own. But she couldn’t get that last half rotation, and she was pretty sure it was just mocking her now every time she came down facing the wrong way.

“You need to start lower.”

She nearly had a heart attack at the man’s voice; she’d been certain she was the last one in the building (they’d given her a key years ago). Turning to face it, she found Killian, in the same place he’d been last week, wearing the same smirk.

“Excuse me?”

“If you want that extra half rotation, you need to start lower; bend your knee more.”

She tilted her head to assess him. Was he actually trying to help, even after the way she treated him last week?

He apparently took her confusion to mean she didn’t understand the instructions, and took that as an invitation to hop on the ice—the fact that he was even still wearing his skates surprised her, but probably not as much as it should have. He glided over, stopping gracefully to stand alongside her. “Show me your takeoff.”

“Why?” was all she could say.

“Humor me,” he answered with a wink. She rolled her eyes but did as asked, pushing off and away from him to go into her jump prep, and he watched her, critiquing, if the furrow of his brow told her anything. Was he trying to make fun of her?

“Hold it right there,” he commanded, and she held the pose until she lost her momentum and was just standing on the ice with one leg extended behind her while he skated over. “See, you’re not bending deep enough to get the height you need. See how low I get?” he asked, going into a similar pose. “I know my legs are longer, but try to match this angle.” She bit back the urge to protest and complied, bending her knee just a bit more. It felt odd, but not unachievable. He stood and directed her to “Go on; try that.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye; just what was he trying to do? It wasn’t unheard of for skaters to help each other out, but unsolicited? To be fair, though, she hadn’t turned him away yet, so it couldn’t hurt to try. She took off again, skating in an arc around the rink, and began the prep for the jump, going just that bit lower before bringing her toepick down for liftoff...and there it was: a perfect triple. She was so astonished that despite the flawless landing, she fell right over.

“Woah! You alright?” He was in front of her in an instant, hand extended to help her up. She took it and let him help haul her to her feet, but she must have stood up too fast because suddenly, she was in his (very firm, very nice) arms. “Did you hit your head or anything?” He seemed genuinely concerned—that was a surprise.

“Yeah, yeah—I’m fine. Just shocked I landed it,” she brushed off with a chuckle. It felt good, but it sounded almost hollow, the slide of her lone blade on the ice. Maybe that was how it was supposed to be—or maybe it was just time to call it a night.

“How about we take one together? That might make it be less shocking,” he suggested.

She was a bit too caught up in her enthusiasm over getting it to think much about his offer, but she took him up on it without second thought. They broke apart, and then he counted them down from three to start.

On “one,” they skated away in tandem, steps nearly in sync. He called out “prep,” and they did the same steps to start the jump. And on “go,” they leapt, rotated, and landed almost perfectly and very nearly at the same time, blades hitting the ice within milliseconds of each other and cutting congruent curves in the surface.

It felt even better than the last. She let herself slide backwards into the boards, almost overcome with how great that jump had been. It felt like when she had been back in her peak a few months ago, but somehow even better.

Killian came to a rest next to her. “I don’t mean to upset you, Swan,” he started, nodding at their matching paths in the ice, “but I think we make quite the team.” He winked, and then pressed his arms against the edge of the boards to skate back to the rink exit, but his words lingered.

Maybe he wasn’t the “monumental arse” she thought he was.

She found him early the next day near the entrance to the locker room. “First off, I’m sorry I called you an asshole last week.”

He shrugged. “I probably deserved it.”

She wasn’t going to argue, so she took a breath and moved onto her next point. “And I think you were right. Let’s be a team.”

A slow smile took over his features. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

2018

While waiting for the okay to enter the ice and hearing the audience cheer for the previous pair, Emma felt a dark, warm presence at her side. Killian wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight.

“You alright there, Swan?” he whispered, his warm breath on her ear a sharp contrast to the chill of the arena that sent a shiver down her spine—though, she’d had to stop denying that it was only his breath that had that effect on her.

“Never better,” she answered honestly. How could she be anything but? She was about to compete for a medal with the man who had become her best friend over the last two years. Sure, there’d been plenty of ups and downs, both literally and figuratively, but despite what she’d once thought, she couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

“Shall we, then?” He stepped aside and held his hand out to her, ever the gentleman.

“Let’s do this.” She grabbed his hand, shivering again at the sparks she felt whenever they touched, and they made their way toward the entrance to the ice.

2016

Whatever nerves Emma had before her first day training with Killian, they quickly melted. Well—maybe not that quickly, in the grand scheme of things, but for Emma: pretty damn fast. She didn’t trust easy, especially with her recent history.

When they first started attempting lifts together, there was a learning curve on both ends. For Emma, Killian was just enough taller than Neal that she was freaked out by how high she was. Conversely, Emma was just enough shorter than Milah that Killian wasn’t used to lifting anyone smaller, and may have pulled her up quicker than expected. Needless to say, the first lift—and the third, and the seventh, and the tenth—ended with both of them on the mats of the training center.

After yet another fall, Killian frustratedly barked out, “Perhaps you should try something new, Swan. It’s called trust.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t throw me in the air like a rag doll!”

Thankfully, Ingrid was there to mediate, as was Killian’s longtime coach, Smee. And the first time they executed a clean lift, it felt better than Emma could have even expected. When he easily flipped her down from it, as if they’d done it a million times before, she was relieved to see that his grin matched hers.

Partnered jumps and throws had a similar learning curve, but Emma was trying—damn, was she trying. She was determined to make this work, and she could tell by the fierce set of Killian’s eyes and jaw that he was, too. At least spins came easy; those felt like they’d been doing them as a pair for years with how naturally they fit together.

Overall, it was a better start than she expected. Most people didn’t change partners like that in such a quick time span and have anywhere near the success they were achieving. They knew they still had a ways to go, and a lot to prove—the announcement of the partnering switchups was met with mixed reviews by the skating community at large, and Killian would have to sort out his citizenship to skate for the US—but if the excited glint in their coaches’ eyes was anything to go by, they were on the right path.

She was still reeling from Neal’s betrayal, though, even if she refused to acknowledge she was. Throwing herself into practice was the easiest way to take her mind off of it, but every now and then, she’d hit a familiar pose or come out of a side-by-side jump and expect to look over and see Neal there, but he just...wasn’t. He was gone, like so many other people in her life had been. So it was nothing against Killian, but she was very hesitant to let another person in who had the potential to do that, both from a skating and a personal level.

Killian, however, wasn’t abiding by that. She could sense his growing frustration with her when they were practicing late into the evening, both determined to get their twist lift right. But Emma had a mental block on adjusting to Killian and kept bungling it, whether it was under rotated or lacking height, and forcing Killian to catch her in odd positions that sent them to the ice more than once.

“One more time, I can do it,” she insisted, sitting up from where they’d wiped out to give it another go.

From his seat on the ice, he grabbed her wrist to keep her in place. “No. Hold up—we need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she brushed off, pulling her wrist free.

“I know this is new to both of us, Swan, but at some point, even though we’re quite different, you’ve gotta trust me.”

“That’s what you think this is about? That I don’t trust you?”

“Is that not it?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then why won’t you let me in?”

Everything she’d been avoiding focusing on for weeks now came bubbling up. “Because everyone leaves me. My parents abandoned me as a baby; I spent my first 6 years shuffled from home to home in the foster system because no one wanted me; and it wasn’t until I found skating and Ingrid that I found any sense of belonging. And then I spent the last 7 years working with a man who promised to be there with me, who made plans with me, only for him to leave me at the drop of a hat, break my heart, and remind me that even if people know my name, I’m still the same little lost girl I’ve always been. Everyone I love leaves me, and I can’t take that chance with you, too.”

“You think you’re the only one with a sob story here, Emma?” His voice was laced with anger; it took her by surprise. Most people reacted to her story with sympathy or pity, but Killian wasn’t having it. “My mother died when I was a boy, father left not long after, and then my brother gave up everything for me to have the chance to skate, until he died. And then I found a partner, a woman I loved, and she died in my arms, too. I never thought I’d share the ice with someone again—that I’d be able to move on from her. Yet here we are. So don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

He didn’t even give her a chance to respond before standing and tearing away, exiting the ice and disappearing toward the locker room, leaving her speechless where she sat. That was a lot to take in, and explained so much about him.

And he was right—he was totally right. She knew she hid herself behind emotional walls; it was one of the first things she could remember learning how to do. Few people had broken through them, and they usually ended up just building them thicker, like Neal. Killian obviously had his own, but he was clearly willing to make a window in them for Emma; the least she could do was the same.

A clunking noise pulled her from her racing thoughts. Killian was back in the arena, on the other side of the wall, setting two beer bottles on top of it. Confused, she got to her feet and skated over. “Pretty sure they don’t allow booze on the ice.”

“Who’s here to stop us?” he asked rhetorically and took a sip. It was true; once again, they were the only people in the building. So she took the other bottle and followed suit. “Let’s face it, Swan: we’re both broken and beat up in our own ways, and the whole world is just waiting for us to fail. If we’re not on each other’s side, then who else will be?” He punctuated his question with an arch of his eyebrow.

How he always managed to get to the center of a situation was impressive, and she’d probably get tired of it someday, but right now, she couldn’t help but agree. “So it’s us against the world?” she offered, tilting her bottle towards him.

“Cheers to that,” he answered, clinking the lip of his beer with hers. And as they drank in companionable silence, something settled between them—an understanding of sorts, and for some reason, she felt more confident than she thought she had a right to feel. And for the first time in weeks, she was truly excited.

From then on, things started to click. They weren’t perfect, of course—there were always going to be falls when trying new things, and technique was constantly under scrutiny—but they were able to figure out how to fix issues faster through more open communication and their discovered sense of camaraderie. Emma quickly figured out that the cocky demeanor she’d known in the past was merely a front for a man who was constantly worried with being good enough and expected the most of himself and everyone around him. As it turned out, he’d long had a similar misguided opinion of her: that she was stiff and humorless, when in actuality she’d had to be to counter Neal’s distractedness and lack of focus. With Killian, that was never a problem, so she was able to loosen up and have a bit more fun with her skating.

And just like that, everything fell into place. Killian’s citizenship was granted—his years of training in Michigan counted towards the residency requirement—and they were cleared to skate for the US. Their programs started to come together and were equal amounts fun and challenging. They played it a bit easy when it came to scheduling competitions, electing to not do the Grand Prix this year, but were still invited to a couple events and figured those would be good chances to get in some international competition.

It had been a long time since Emma had been this excited to skate. Obviously, she’d loved it when she was with Neal, but it had always felt a bit more like a job with him. With Killian, she was rediscovering her love of the sport through his own passion and enthusiasm. That didn’t mean that every day was new and exciting and fun, but a hell of a lot more of them were.

Even Elsa noticed it. “You seem a lot happier lately,” she observed one night while they were watching TV in their apartment. “This change has been good for you.”

“Yeah, it really has,” Emma agreed, surprising herself a bit. There were still plenty of moments when Neal’s rejection stung bitterly—he had never replied to any of her messages asking to talk about things—but the closer they got to competition, the fewer those were.

October brought their first competition, Skate America in Detroit. It also brought a return to Killian's old training center for practices leading up to the event. In the hallway outside the locker rooms hung all the pictures of the champions who had trained there in the past; near the end, in a large frame, were Killian and Milah with their bronze medals from the Vancouver olympics. He looked younger then, his face cleanshaven and hair neatly styled. He was even wearing a crewneck top; a far cry from the chest hair-baring V-necks he preferred now. But that sparkle in his blue eyes was still there, and she’d noticed it more and more lately.

She heard him coming down the corridor, waving goodbye to yet another person he knew here. It was definitely a homecoming of sorts for him—everyone greeted him warmly, told them they missed him, and wished him well. The two of them had never discussed why he moved to Storybrooke, and after just a day here, she found her curiosity needed to be sated.

“I’ve got to wonder why someone would leave a place where he was so loved,” she lightly teased as he arrived at her side, but they both knew, given her childhood, that it was a serious question.

He stared up at the picture and sighed. “That’s exactly why, actually. I needed to not be the center of attention anymore,” he answered, more honestly than she’d expected. “All eyes were on us here in Detroit at all times, and even when they were just on me, it still felt like they were on both of us.”

“Skating with a ghost?” she pondered aloud. Seeing this—a reminder of what he’d lost—every day couldn’t have been easy for him; it hadn’t been for her that week after Neal left, and his departure was at least voluntary.

“Something like that,” he agreed quietly.

“I think I know what you mean.”

The week and competition went by in a blur after that. As it turned out, Neal and Tamara weren’t doing any Grand Prix events, which had relieved Emma to no end. Instead, she got to focus on reconnecting with her American teammates, Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan, and their former teammates Regina Mills and Robin Locksley, who now skated for Robin’s (and Killian’s) home of the UK.

“So they traded you for me?” Killian quipped to Regina, drawing a rare laugh from her, to Emma’s surprise, but she was glad that he fit right in with everyone. It was so nice to hang out with all of them in between practices and competition events; Emma didn’t realize how much she had needed that social connection within the activity right now, and knowing they were there supporting her and Killian meant more than she could express.

They were nervous before their short program (“Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen—hey, it was fun!) and had a couple minor slips, but nothing major, and the crowd reaction was incredible. Their free skate, set to music from The Princess Bride, didn’t go quite as well—they both made mistakes on an assisted jump, resulting in Emma falling—but overall were pleased with their performance and managed to finish 6th. For a first competition for new partners, that was almost unheard of.

At Skate Canada, two weeks later in Mississauga, they skated even better, saw their score jump 10 points, and finished fourth—ahead of Regina and Robin. And suddenly, they were the buzz of the skating world—no one could believe how well they were doing and how well they skated together; everyone thought it looked like they’d been partners for years instead of months.

More than a few speculated that there was something else going on behind the scenes, but they just laughed at that. Entering a new partnership was one thing; entering a new relationship—given their respective histories—was another thing entirely. Yeah, Killian was hot. But he also had figured out just how to push her buttons when he felt like it, so no matter how good of friends they became, or how much she’d come to rely on his support, she doubted it would ever go past that, or that he’d even want it to.

Competing in Skate America gave them a bye through the New England regional, but they still had to compete in the Eastern sectional competition to attend US nationals. That was where they took their first win, on the ice at Madison Square Garden, with their cleanest run yet. They both could list a million things they still needed to work on—their spin timing still needed some cleaning—but a victory was a victory.

Emma didn’t think a thing of it when she threw her arms around Killian after their free skate score was announced, and he didn’t hesitate to pull her in tight. Long gone was that initial animosity, but that was still their first real hug—not just one for show as part of a routine. It didn’t hit Emma until much later that that was the case—or that she actually quite liked the feeling of his arms around her like that.

They buckled down on training in preparation for Nationals, save for the few days they took off for Christmas. With Elsa back in Norway with her family, it ended up just being her and Killian left in Storybrooke, watching holiday movies and eating frozen pizza in his small house by the sea. It should have been lonely, considering neither of them had any actual family to spend time with, but it was surprisingly nice to hang out with him outside of practice. And it had been ages since she laughed so hard, listening to him talk about his childhood antics.

“So I pulled his pants down and skated away as fast as I could, jumping over a fallen classmate in the process and somehow managing to stay perfectly upright.”

“And that’s how Killian Jones got into skating? Being a little asshole?” Emma teased through her laughter.

“Pretty much,” he shrugged with a smirk. “It was that or hockey, but Liam thought I got in enough fights already.”

“Sounds like,” she agreed, chuckling.

“And how did little Swan find her way out of the nest and onto the ice?”

“Oh, the usual: saw the Olympics on TV and fell in love. Oksana Baiul left quite an impression.”

“Better her than Tonya Harding.”

“Definitely,” she giggled (god, when had she last done that?) “But it wasn’t until Ingrid became my foster mother that I really got started; I wouldn’t be here without her. And after that, it was all I ever wanted: to compete at the Olympics and win a medal.”

Killian gave her a soft little smile she had never seen before; she kind of loved it. “We’ll get you there yet, Swan.”

His assurance did more for her confidence in attaining her dream than a week’s worth of practice.

Mid-January found them in Kansas City in the middle of the chaos of Nationals. It was nothing compared to world championships, of course, but there was still a level of insanity and a new set of nerves settling in. Because this was the first time they’d go up against Neal and Tamara, who’d posted similar scores to them at their sectional competition. But mainly, Emma wasn’t sure she could face him.

She spent the week making sure they wouldn’t cross paths anywhere: not in practice, not in the hotel, and as little as possible at the competition venue. But just before the short, as she and Killian came off the ice from their warmup, she got a glimpse of him that set her heart racing and froze her in place.

Ever perceptive, Killian pulled her from her raging thoughts and feelings—asking herself why she was even there, how did she think she could go up against him?—with a gentle squeeze on her wrist and “You alright, Swan?”

His warm hand on her skin brought her back to reality, and reminded her who was at her side now. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Alright then. Let’s go kick some ass.”

They skated almost clean; just a couple missed edges and Emma wobbled a bit coming out of their side-by-side triple toe loop. But when it was all said and done, that was enough to set them in third after the short, with David and Mary Margaret in second and Neal and Tamara in first.

She forced herself to wear blinders the next day; anything outside her and Killian didn’t matter. Even in warmup before the last round of competition, when she was actually sharing the ice with Neal for the first time in almost a year, her energy was completely directed on their performance. And it paid off: they set a personal best score in the free skate and claimed the silver medal, ensuring they would go on to represent the US at Worlds. Neither she nor Killian could keep the grins off their faces, and she was starting to think she might do anything to keep his there permanently; the way it cut dimples into his gingery scruff was absolutely adorable.

After the medal ceremony, during which she had pointedly ignored that they were standing next to Neal and Tamara, they stepped down to exchange congratulations with the other competitors and friends and she somehow got separated from Killian. She felt a tap on the shoulder and turned, expecting it to be him, but no—Neal.

Instantly, her mood soured. “Congrats,” she offered half-heartedly.

“You too,” he said, though there were clearly other things on his mind.

“Spit it out, Neal. Why did you come over here?” After what you did hung unsaid but understood.

“Just...it didn’t take you long to move on.”

She felt her hackles rise. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You didn’t even wait a week, huh? Or did you just throw yourself at the next man who gave you any attention?”

“You’re the one who left me and you’re trying to lecture me about how fast I found a new partner?”

“You just can’t stand being alone, is all. I thought I’d be doing you a favor, leaving, but I guess not.”

“Fuck you.” She didn’t waste another moment talking to him and immediately skated to the exit, ignoring the varied shouts she heard of her name behind her on her path back to the locker room. Thankfully, it was empty, and she collapsed on a bench—and then let the tears roll free.

How dare he. How dare that asshole even look at her! She was finally to the point that she wasn’t reminded of him at every turn and then he had the nerve—the gall—

“Emma, love, what’s wrong? What happened?” Killian was suddenly kneeling in front of her, hands tracing a comforting line up and down her biceps when she looked up at him with her swollen eyes.

“Neal,” she coughed out, and that was all she could say before emotion took over her again. In just one interaction, he’d reduced her back to that little orphan girl who felt so unloved and alone in the world, and she hated that he had that power over her.

“Shh, Swan, it’s alright,” Killian told her, voice barely above a whisper as he pulled her to his chest. She breathed him in deep, the warm, spicy smell of him she’d become so used to these past months, and managed to calm her breathing from within his sturdy embrace. “Whatever that bastard said, it’s not true. You are absolutely brilliant and no one can tell you otherwise.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered, but she’d stopped crying.

“Look at me,” he commanded, guiding her back up and lifting her chin with his hand. She’d never seen him more serious. “Have I told you a lie?”

He’d figured out her instinct to know when people were being untrue pretty fast. And he was right—or, at least, he completely believed what he was saying. And that was enough for her. She shook her head.

“Right then.” He nodded and wiped her tears with his thumb, still holding her face and her gaze. And something shifted then, or maybe it sparked; a charge filled the air, and she found her eyes flitting down to his lips at the same time his made a similar move. The already-short distance between them became nearly nonexistent, as if they were pulled together by an invisible magnet.

And then their lips were on each others, soft and warm and like they should have been a million years sooner. Emma’s hand drifted to his side and the other somehow found its way into the short, soft hairs at the nape of his neck. It was a moment that seemed to last forever.

Until she realized that she was kissing her partner in the women’s locker room at the Sprint Center—and honestly, wasn’t that what got her into this position in the first place? Oh, but it was such a good kiss. Reluctantly, she broke it, settling her hands on his trim waist and resting against his forehead.

“That was…” he started, breathless.

“...A one-time thing,” she finished. Because it had to be. Gently pushing him away, she directed, “Go on ahead. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

“As you wish,” he murmured. Slowly, he stood and backed away; she couldn’t watch—couldn’t see the expression on his face as he left, because if it was anything similar to how she felt, she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to resist. And there was no way she’d let herself get involved with a teammate yet again.

But as she changed out of her costume and into her warmup clothes, she wondered if it might be too late for that.

2018

Side by side, Killian’s hand clenched tight in Emma’s, they approached the entrance to the ice and stopped to take their skate guards off. Behind the adorable little girl who was going to hold onto them while they performed, Neal and Tamara were coming out of the green room; they were on next, the last pair to skate.

Emma stiffened a bit at seeing them, and she could feel Killian do the same. Terse nods were exchanged, but that was all she let happen before turning her back to them and facing the ice. If she’d learned anything in the past year, it was that she didn’t need Neal anymore and was much better off without him, but he always managed to dredge up that old feeling of insecurity.

Killian knew what she was feeling, though, and squeezed her hand. “Hey—I’ve yet to see you fail,” he whispered, and that was enough to press back those tired thoughts. She smiled up at him; there was no one else she’d want to be doing this with.

“You ready?” she asked, excited.

“Aye,” he answered with a grin.

They stepped out onto the ice hand-in-hand to thunderous applause.

2017

As it turned out, Emma was pretty good at pretending like things never happened, and so was Killian. The events in the locker room in Kansas City never came up again in their next couple months of training for Worlds, and after another whirlwind week—this time in Helsinki—they found themselves in 4th place, just points behind Neal and Tamara.

Which, heading into an Olympic year, meant they were not only favored to medal in PyeongChang, but now found themselves in the midst of a rivalry. They couldn’t say they were surprised, given the situation, but it was kind of funny to see how the media was so quick to pit them against each other in an attempt to stir up interest.

However, she pointedly ignored the speculation that there was more going on between her and Killian. Every pair had that, and every pair had likely pursued that line of thinking at some point, but it actually didn’t happen that often. However, given their histories, the odds were a bit higher in their favor...which made Emma even more resolved to avoid those thoughts and feelings.

Killian made it hard for her, though. He was just so supportive and caring and passionate about what he was doing, and it hadn’t been until Nationals that it really sunk in how different he was from Neal, in all the best ways. Killian wasn’t just in this for himself; he wanted her to succeed as well, and not for his sake, but for her own. “Bloody brilliant, Swan,” had quickly become one of her favorite things to hear.

Once they got back into training for the next season, and started pushing themselves harder, it became even more evident that he was in this for the long haul. It wasn’t just an experiment anymore, and it really hadn’t been in quite some time: they were definitely a team, and completely on each other’s side. There was no way Emma was going to risk messing this up with something as silly as feelings.

She could fight through being hyper aware of his presence at all times. She could handle the heat of his hand on her waist every time they touched, as near-constant as it was. And she could totally stand that earth-shattering grin he gave her after each step forward in their Olympic journey, and the way it made her heart jump as high as she did when he threw her.

Well, maybe she did have a hard time resisting that one, but she’d certainly try. She had an Olympic medal to win, after all. Scratch that—they did.

They threw themselves into training, doing whatever they could to maximize their own potential and skills for the season ahead. They knew what they needed to work on to get an edge over the competition—not just Neal and Tamara, but globally. The Russian pair, siblings Ava and Nikolai, handily won Worlds, and the team from China, Mulan and Li, were just as incredible. There was no time for slouching if they wanted to reach the podium in PyeongChang.

Summer was nothing but ice time, dance class, and strength training, and getting an early start on planning their schedule and routines. Getting a quad jump would be the hardest part, but they were determined to bring that element in to get a competitive edge. They had some early success with it, but decided to hold off on adding it into their program until Nationals for a late boost in scoring.

Before they knew it, they were in Russia for the first Grand Prix event—the first in what would be an 8-week tour of the world, save for skipping the Cup of China to give themselves a week off and make any changes to the program they’d need.

Somehow, they drew the first performance slot in the short program. Emma hated going first, but Killian loved it, for some reason.

“The ice is totally clean and we get to set the bar for everyone else to reach. What could be more thrilling than that?” he effused, bouncing on his toepicks. She just shook her head and chuckled; he had the enthusiasm of a 5-year-old sometimes, and in moments like this, she let it carry her along.

A hush fell over the audience as they took their opening pose. She could feel her stomach start to turn with nerves but Killian, ever observant, just cocked an eyebrow at her and they all melted away just in time for the music to start. Besides, it was hard to do anything but have fun when the score to Pirates of the Caribbean was playing in the background.

As usual, Killian was right: they not only broke their own first-competition record from last year, but they set the highest score overall until Neal and Tamara performed almost at the end.

“Told you,” Killian smugly boasted as they left the kiss-and-cry area. She just elbowed him in response.

At the end of the day, they were third after the short program—Mulan and Li were there, too—and stayed there after a solid, but not perfect, run in the free skate. All in all, a good start. There was a slightly awkward moment when she crossed paths with Tamara in the locker room, but otherwise, the competition was without conflict.

Well, mostly. Killian seemed oddly pissed when he flopped down on his seat in the back of the van taking them to the airport. Right away, she asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Your ex is a bloody wanker, that’s what.”

“Well, I could have told you that.”

A dimple briefly appeared as he smirked, but quickly disappeared. “He was just going on and on about how he and Tamara had this season in the bag, and no one could touch them. That it would be smooth sailing from here to Korea and no one else stood a chance, least of all us.”

Emma’s mouth tightened to a thin line, but she wasn’t quite as angry as she expected to be—though she briefly wondered if Neal did that when they skated together. “He’s an idiot; just ignore it.”

“Oh, I know he was talking out his arse. Just makes me want to kick his all the more.”

“I can drink to that,” she agreed with a smile, putting one back on Killian’s face. (And drink to that they did at the airport bar.) They both knew Ingrid would probably admonish them for setting a target on Neal’s back, but honestly, it was just a stepping stone to the top.

And it paid off. The next weekend at Skate Canada, they actually edged ahead of Neal and Tamara in the short program. The other pair had an incredibly solid triple-triple combination in the free skate that made it hard to beat them, but if Emma and Killian could get that throw quad worked out, it would give them the boost they needed. They continued to practice it, but were just a hair shy on the rotation, enough that it would count against them in scoring.

The following weekend was their one break in Grand Prix season, and they decided to spend it training in PyeongChang. Obviously, they couldn’t use the Olympic facilities, but they managed to find a quiet rink nearby to practice in. It was nice to get away from everything and just focus on them; even in Storybrooke, there were always other skaters peeking in or needing the ice before or after them. They weren’t the only ones here in PyeongChang, but it was much quieter.

One evening after rehearsal, they found themselves wandering the city and ended up outside the construction of the Olympic stadium, where the opening and closing ceremonies would be held. It wasn’t quite done yet, but the lights that lit the scaffoldings around it already made it look magical.

“What’s it like?” Emma asked once they settled onto a nearby bench. She’d been through Worlds and was used to that kind of international competition, but the Olympics were a whole other thing. She might as well know what she getting into from someone who’d been there before, even if it was a while ago.

A small, wistful smile took over Killian’s face. “It’s...simply magical. I can’t think of any other way to describe it. The energy is incredible; the sense of camaraderie. There’s nothing like it.”

“Were you nervous?” Eight years is a long time, especially for a skater; he was almost always cool and collected now, but there had to be a point when he wasn’t.

“Oh, aye, couldn’t help but be. Even thinking about the potential of making these ones gives me butterflies,” he admitted, looking up from the ground to her. “But I knew I had the best person possible at my side, and I trusted her. That was enough.”

She swallowed at the sincerity of his words and the intensity of his gaze. Even if he was talking about Milah, she could pick up on his double meaning. But there was something else there—something she didn’t want to identify, so she looked away lest they have a repeat of Kansas City. They sat there for a few more minutes, until a text from Ingrid summoned them back to the hotel.

On the walk back, Emma’s fingers accidentally brushed against Killian’s, and that same old spark felt like a lighting bolt. She shoved her hands into her pockets and kept them there until she was in her room.

That week in PyeongChang was just what they needed to power through the rest of their Grand Prix schedule. They went back and forth with Neal and Tamara in scores—finally finishing ahead of them at the Internationaux de France—and never finished off the podium at any event. Their first gold medal was Skate America, which also marked their personal best score.

There was a week off of competition in between for Thanksgiving, for which Killian joined her, Ingrid, and Elsa for the first time. It had long been the ladies’ tradition and they were more than happy to bring him into it.

Elsa, however, saw another angle into it. While Ingrid and Killian were working in the kitchen, she cornered Emma. “So, when are you going to admit to yourself that you’re in love with him?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emma answered coolly. It was well-rehearsed because she knew Elsa was going to comment on it at some point; she just figured it would be some random night at home instead of right before Thanksgiving dinner.

“You certainly do know! Did you forget that I live with you, Emma, and I had to watch you and Neal make out on the couch countless times.”

“Ugh, why are you mentioning him?”

“Because I remember how you looked at him, and I see how you look at Killian. You’re even more infatuated with Killian than you ever were with Neal.”

Elsa had an infuriating knack for pointing out the glaring truth at the most inopportune times, especially when it was something Emma was firmly trying to ignore or deny. But she was right: the intensity of her feelings for Killian, whatever they were, was far deeper than anything she’d felt for Neal, and it honestly terrified her. A quadruple axel scared her less, or whatever that made-up move was in Blades of Glory that killed a person. She may have let Killian in as a friend, but letting him in as more was something she wasn’t ready for yet.

Elsa continued, softly. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want to pressure you. But maybe after you two win that Olympic medal, take him back to the apartment and shag him senseless, okay?”

“Elsa!!”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think he wanted it, too.”

They finished third in the Grand Prix Final in Nagoya. There was a rough spot on the ice that messed up Killian’s takeoff of their double axel in the short program and he ended up on the ice; Emma quickly helped him up and they finished the rest of it without flaw, as with the free skate, but that deduction was just enough to hold them back from overtaking Neal and Tamara in second. The Russians were practically untouchable, but the quad jump would put Emma and Killian in contention with them—if they could get it.

Success was coming much more often as they worked on it in the couple of months before Nationals, but Emma had the tendency to overthink it, and that was usually when she found herself facing away from Killian instead of towards—or worse, face-first on the ice.

It was another late night in the rink and they were there by themselves, much like that night months ago when they’d first struggled with these jumps and ended up spilling their life stories to each other. But this time, the animosity was gone, replaced with a mutual understanding—but there was still a sense of frustration.

After her last mess up, which left her splayed on the ice yet again, Emma just stayed down, mentally berating herself for her inability to get that last half rotation. She was doing everything right, wasn’t she? What was it missing? Or was she trying to force it too much?

Killian’s anxious voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Swan? Emma? Are you alright?” He was on his knees next to her, his hand gently shaking her back. She turned her head to look up at him and was surprised to see him panicking and biting his lip. It wasn’t the first time she’d fallen with him, not by a long shot—but then she remembered what happened with Milah, and suddenly felt terrible.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she assured him, pushing up to sitting. “Sorry; didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Without warning, he pulled her into a hug. “Damn right, you’re sorry. I can’t lose you, too, Emma.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words as her arms wrapped around him. “I’m fine, I promise,” she murmured into his shoulder, and he squeezed her just a bit tighter. It reminded her of that night in Korea, of the heaviness of his words when she least expected it. It made her want more than she’d ever allow herself to.

If he realized what he’d admitted, he didn’t acknowledge it and broke away. She was relieved to see that his features had relaxed, and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before continuing. “Just let the jump happen, Emma. You’re trying to force it too hard; I probably am, too. It’s there. Let’s just calm down and do it, okay?”

Her mind briefly traveled to other places on his use of “do it,” but she nodded and let him help her up to standing.

“Just imagine you’re a swan, Swan,” he joked, making her chuckle (and likely succeeding in loosening her nerves).

“I don’t think I’ve done that since I skated to Swan Lake when I was 10.”

“Good thing you got that out of the way early.”

“Oh yeah. And don’t get any ideas.”

Then they took a deep breath and went for it, letting the prep flow from them naturally. She let her feet fall into place, felt Killian grip her hips—just a tiny bit firmer than normal—and then her feet and his body were moving in tandem and she was flying, if only for a moment, twisting through the air and gracefully landing on one leg, looking back at him. He was grinning.

“What’d I tell you? I’ve yet to see you fail,” he shouted as he caught up to her. They did a few more for good measure, landing each one flawlessly.

Part of her couldn’t wait to see the look on Neal’s face when they landed that—but there was no way it could top her thrill at seeing Killian’s smile.

They planned to unveil the jump at Nationals in San Jose. The commentators were buzzing with the news that they had a quad planned for their free skate, and a clean short program had them sitting first headed into the final part of the competition.

Before they took the ice, Killian again was bouncing on his toepicks, but the way he was clenching his jaw betrayed his nerves.

“I’m guessing you don’t share the same feelings about going on last as you do about going first?”

“No, not quite.”

It was her turn to calm him down. “Hey,” she said softly, grabbing his shoulders and stilling him. “We’ve got this. Right?”

He exhaled quickly, as if trying to get the negative thoughts out of his body as fast as possible. “Aye, we do.”

“So let’s go kick some arse.”

He smirked. “Let’s.”

And they did—almost. But there was a different kind of energy and nervousness that came with performing last, and the crowd had cheered awful hard for Neal and Tamara before them. It didn’t faze Emma and Killian much, but enough to only do a triple instead of the quad. The rest of the skate went flawless, but that tiny miss left them ever so slightly behind.

Neal and Tamara took the title again, and Emma and Killian the silver, but only by a point and a half. The most important part, though, was that they were going to the Olympics.

“Are you ready for what comes next, Swan?”

“Hell yeah.”

2018

After a few independent warmup laps of the rink, Emma and Killian met again at center ice, taking their positions on top of those five rings. They wrapped their arms around each other and slid into their opening pose; the feel of his deep breaths against her did more to calm her than anything he could say, but she gave a quick squeeze of encouragement anyway and he did the same.

And then the opening notes of their free skate music, “The Words” by Christina Perri, filtered in, and they were off. All their training, everything they’d been working toward for months—years, even—was on the line, and it all flowed from them naturally and beautifully. Every jump, every lift, every spin felt perfect and organic. They’d had some flawless run-throughs in practice, but with the audience’s energy feeding them, it was something else entirely. Emma had never been one to shy away from pouring her heart into a performance, but that energy combined with her connection to the lyrics and how perfectly they mimicked her own feelings about her partner gave her all she needed to take it to another level. Based on the quiet energy in Killian’s eyes paired with the surety of his every move, she could tell he felt it, too.

And then came the quad. Like everything, they’d rehearsed it so many times, but nerves always threatened to come up. But then she thought of his ridiculous swan analogy and it worked. Time seemed to slow down as she rotated through the air, but then she was solidly back on the ground and her thoughts were drowned out by the audience seconds later. Yet all she noticed was the unstoppable grin on Killian’s face. God, she loved him.

She loved him? Oh, hell, she did. It probably wasn’t the ideal place or time to realize that, but she couldn’t deny it anymore. She loved him.

She couldn’t let that revelation ruin the rest of their program, though, even if not much was left at that point. But she made a point to relish every moment on the ice with him: she held him tighter, reached farther, and gave everything just that extra little bit of finesse that she could, down to the very last second, when she was back in his arms at center ice as the music came to its conclusion and the program ended.

In the background, she was vaguely aware of the audience on its feet. But nothing else registered but the incredible man in her embrace, who was shaking with emotion at the incredible skate they’d just had. She probably was, too, but the only thing on her mind was seeing his face. He pulled back a moment later, laughing with joy and tears brimming at his eyes and there were probably some in hers, too. And she kissed him. She fisted her hands in his dark shirt, tugged him back to her, found his lips, and poured every unsaid word and feeling into that connection. It was like time stood still again, and she could feel his shock as he stiffened next to her but instinctively held her tighter. She broke it before she got too lost in it—the whole world was watching, after all—but damn did it feel good; almost as good as that performance.

He stared at her a bit wide-eyed and slack-jawed for a moment, searching her eyes for an answer to his unasked question. She was an open book to him, she knew, and he quickly found it, but a slight nod said they’d talk about it in a moment. They had other things to finish first.

Whoops now accompanied the general cheering—especially from the performers’ sitting area, where their friends were going nuts (particularly Mary Margaret and Robin). As they took their bows, she knew that somewhere in the audience, Elsa was screaming and blowing up her phone with I-told-you-sos.

She found herself wiping tears from her eyes as she skated towards the ice entrance, completely overcome by everything. She’d just had the performance of her life with the man she loved. How did anyone handle that?

Suddenly, a single rose was in front of her, and a shyly smiling Killian behind it. Laughing—because she knew he’d picked it up off the ice—she took it, and he wrapped his arms around her as they stepped off the rink. Before they grabbed their skate guards, he pressed a firm kiss to her temple that she unconsciously leaned into. She could tell there were so many words on the tip of his tongue, but they were also anxious to get their scores and he was settling with that for now.

Ingrid and Smee were waiting with huge hugs and congratulations in the kiss and cry, but Emma didn’t miss the knowing looks they exchanged before they got there. Emma made sure to thank Ingrid for everything she’d done for her over the years and she knew a similar conversation was happening next to them. And then they settled into the plush chairs to wait for their scores. On an average day, that was almost as nerve wracking as just taking the ice; the feeling was tenfold now.

Finally, the announcer started speaking. “The scores for Swan and Jones of the United States…”

Killian grabbed Emma’s hand while the Korean announcer translated, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tight. He’d never done that before, but hey, what was another first today?

And then the number came up. Emma actually couldn’t remember it exactly, but all she knew was that it was not only their best ever, but also an Olympic record and had them in first by several points. They were guaranteed a medal—all she had come here to do (though, technically, they did already have a silver with Team USA, having taken first in the short program then). But, she had to admit, their proximity to the top had her desperately hoping they’d hold on to first.

Event workers quickly ushered them out of the kiss-and-cry and directed Emma and Killian to a green room, where cameras would be on them until Neal and Tamara got their scores. Mulan & Li and Ava & Nikolai were already in the room, so any conversation with Killian would have to wait. They greeted their competitors—who had all skated fantastic—and then settled on the loveseat in the middle of the room to watch the final performance on a large monitor.

Neal had a tense look on his face as the pair hit their opening pose, but Tamara seemed unfazed; good for her. Emma could already tell, from personal experience, that it was going to take Tamara keeping her cool for the pair to succeed—Neal had never done well under this kind of pressure.

They started smooth, and Emma could tell they both relaxed as they got going. This was really the first time she’d let herself watch them without figuring out how to beat them, and she had to admit: they fit together really well, better than she ever had with Neal. But not as well as she and Killian.

It was a nearly flawless skate, and Emma found herself getting a bit nervous. But then, on a side-by-side jump late in the routine, Neal missed a good chunk of the rotation—more than what was allowed by the judges. It was a common mistake of his, and he probably deserved it given the mouthing off and boasting he’d been doing. But that would hold them back a few points—points they had needed if they wanted to overtake Emma and Killian.

Killian’s hand found hers again as they watched the rest of the performance, and they wordlessly waited for Neal and Tamara’s scores; it was almost as stressful as waiting for their own.

Minutes seemed to drag waiting for the announcement, but finally, the numbers were up on the screen, and—it wasn’t enough. Neal and Tamara took third. Emma and Killian took gold.

She turned to Killian, breathless. “We did it. Oh my God, we did it.”

He was grinning again, making her heart race with both adrenaline and love. “I told you: I’ve yet to see you fail.”

She didn’t waste another moment to wrap her arms around him, and then everything set in and she just started crying and bouncing in her seat. Olympic gold. Olympic GOLD. What was her life?

A hand on her shoulder made her pull away; Mulan was there, offering congratulations, so Emma quickly stood to hug her and offer her own on their silver medal. The room just turned into a mess of friendly embraces and well wishes, and she knew more would await them outside, but once the other pairs left the room, she was quick to get back to Killian’s side.

He was still smiling, cheeks rosy with joy, and she held his face in her hands and wiped his own tear streaks away with her thumb.

“I need to tell you something,” she started, finally not scared of her own feelings.

“What’s that?” His face and voice softened, realizing the gravity of the moment.

Confidently, she answered, “I love you.”

“Do you actually mean that, Swan, or is it just because of all of this?” he lightly teased, gesturing around them.

“No, for real—I love you.”

“Good. I love you, too.”

And they kissed again, and she didn’t care if the cameras were on them or who could see. Let them watch. She’d just medaled at the Olympics with her best friend and she was going to celebrate how she saw fit.

Later, as the national anthem played and she stood on top of the podium, the wonderfully heavy weight around her neck had her reflecting on everything that had brought her there. This journey may have started off with a broken heart and a far-off dream, but it ended up bringing her gold and something even more precious than it: him.

(They kissed one more time for the crowd, under the flag and the lights. And then she finally took Elsa’s advice and took him back to her Olympic Village apartment. The rest was history.)

thanks to @optomisticgirl for beta’ing!!! tagging some other friends: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @fairytalesandtimetravel @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @flipperbrain @disastergirl @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @jackieorioncat

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs figure skating au #my ff #my manip

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 7 years

Text

New Perspective: A Solangelo Fanfiction

Drew’s the best and also the worst, and also I haven’t written a lot of witty dialogue lately, I missed that. So you know I had to bring back some of the snap. Also all the lube available and Nico with a ponytail. Cause you know, those things should never be mutually exclusive in fanfiction ;)

(this fic takes place after the events of Lover-Cares)

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview:

“Nico, what the heck?” Austin said, looking rather startled. “Did you seriously just refer to yourself in the third person.”

“It’s never too early for some good old fashion dissociation and self-hatred my guy,” Nico said with a probably terrifying half-smile half-baring of teeth he cheers his coffee and downed it. Noting Kayla and Austin’s genuinely unamused faces, he scoffed. “My comedic skills are lost on you people, I swear.”

“—I’m just saying, Drew Tanaka can shove it up hers if she has enough room besides the giant stick up her butt,” Kayla fumed, and Nico couldn’t help but look up from where he was absentmindedly stirring him cream of wheat. “I swear sometimes I just want to smack that girl upside the head, and the Stolls, and—“

“—and Nico di Angelo, by the gods he’s such an asshole am I right?” Nico said irritably as he took a sip of his coffee, watching as Sebastian from Aphrodite Cabin and Malcom from Athena Cabin got into an argument about if Beyoncé was or was not the most influential philosopher who tackled the properties of love and relationships in modern time.

“Nico, what the heck?” Austin said, looking rather startled. “Did you seriously just refer to yourself in the third person.”

“It’s more like you have a really screwed up sense of humor but alright man whatever floats your boat,” Kayla said with a shrug.

Nico stewed in his general daily angst, definitely not upset that he hadn’t seen Will all morning because he was in charge of taking care of a camper, no, Nico was not that petty. Or at least, he was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t as he sat in the shadow of a tree that was diagonally across from the infirmary, a book laying on his lap that Nico wasn’t reading. He hadn’t managed to get any alone time with Will in so long, he was actually missing Will even though he had seen Will every single day, and his head wasn’t feeling so great.

Pathetic, Nico thought at himself angrily, wanting to bash something or break something to get the raw feeling out from beneath his nails and his head. Get used to being around people and suddenly you are clinging again.

“Oh hey there lover-boy, what’s the reason for the doom and gloom and the fact you obviously haven’t combed your hair?” Drew Tanaka said as she placed one hand on her hip and looked down at Nico as if he had walked out of his room wearing only orange from behind her pink eyeliner.

“Oh wow, it’s almost like I can hear something…but I can’t quite make it out over the sound of all the hot air escaping your face,” Nico said saintly.

“You are lucky you are hot and an asshole,” Drew Tanaka scoffed. “Otherwise being around you would be a chore.”

“I’m gay, Drew.”

“First off sweetie,” Drew said with the inflection she would give “cancer” or “Walmart clothing sale”, “did I say I wanted to suck face with discount Brendon Urie from circa 2005? No I did not. Stop projecting your insecurities onto me, every time you do so another fabulous bitch like me gets a blister when walking in heels to the club. Secondly just because you are gay does not mean you stop being hot. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive. “Mutually exclusive” meaning two things that cannot both be true at the same time, like eating bread on the Atkins diet or Ellis Wakefield not wanting to suck Markowitz’s dick when he walks into a room. Being gay and attractive can definitely both happen so deal with it, and it makes your shitty attitude worth it because I can appreciate good bone structure when I see it.”

“Drew you are an awful human being,” Nico told her seriously, rubbing his temples adamantly. “Like really, is something wrong with you?”

“What can I say, I’m just keeping it real,” Drew said with a toss of her hair. “So what’s got your panties in a twist? Is it Will?”

“Drew, if you seriously think I’m going to talk to you about relationships you have another thing coming,” Nico said with a vague ache starting up behind his eyes.

It was when Drew and Nico were about to have their version of a heart to heart (which was basically them insulting each other) when it sounded like the Asphodel Fields broke out in the center of camp. It looked like Butch from Iris Cabin was barely holding back Sherman as Lacy, Mitchell, and Sebastian milled on the edge of the archery fields. Julia Fiengold, who was good friends with Lacy, had planted herself by Lacy’s side but looked concerned as Alice casted a few solid glares in Sherman’s direction (and Nico wouldn’t have been surprised if she was carrying some serious prank artillery with her). Clovis had somehow fallen asleep on one of the white lines in the center of the archery field, and Nico found himself somewhat glad for it as Will had emerged from the infirmary to try to drag him off with the intervention of Lou Ellen and Cecil Markowitz—though they had all apparently dropped Clovis mid-carry as the fight broke out as he was snoring, looking rather at peace on the grass.

“So what’s going on?” Nico asked in general as he and Drew approached the chaos.

“Oh, you know, the daily life at CHB,” Will said weakly. “Honestly they had been arguing when I got here, I think things started escalating.”

“What you are saying is disrespectful to all the warriors—!” Sherman half-screamed, looking very much like he wanted to shove Lacy out of a moving car. “Get off me Brony!”

“Ugh, man, do not make me regret this or I swear!” Butch snapped at him.

“I was just saying…!” Lacy half-sobbed, her brothers who were comforting her looking like they were planning to switch out Sherman’s spears with makeup brushes and for Cover Girl makeup and lots of highlighter to be in Sherman’s immediate future.

“Wait, can we all hold up a hot second! What is happening and why is Tweedle Dumber threatening Lacy?” Drew said, holding out her hands and flipped her dark hair out of her face. There was charmspeak laden in her words, and with the threat of physical violence gone, the actual situation came out.

“So I was Iris messaging with Piper and she said that her dad told Jason he knew a plastic surgeon that could fix his lip and how Jason thought that was funny. But I said, oh that might be a good idea for scars, and then Sherman overheard me!” Lacy blurted out, her words a tumble of panic.

“A warrior should take pride in his scars, anything else is a weakness!” Sherman snapped back at her. Drew looked like she just rolled her eyes so hard she might have sprained something, and Nico just sat back and let the madness start as Drew opened her lipsticked-lips.

“Okay so I hear that Jason’s got some scars. I wouldn’t really know because like Medusa I try to avoid eye contact with him on the account of someone cough cough Piper cough cough being absolutely sure I’m a homewrecker. I don’t know what the big deal is. If you don’t like something about your body, you should just change it. Or maybe not, maybe Jason needs his scar to get into some lesbian biker gang or maybe he’s leaving Piper and going on an Eat-Pray-Love style self-discovery vacation and the scars will help him sell his memoir as “a man with a troubled past takes the road to new enlightenment”. Anyways, it’s not like we haven’t all thought about something like that. I’m convinced every time that Jackson opens his gab Annabeth reasons over the pros and cons of mouth reduction surgery. I’m sure Butch’s thought of getting that rainbow tramp stamp removed because let’s be honest he’s not slaying the ladies with it—“

“Drew I am going to kick you in the head—!“ Butch threatened.

“—Cecil has probably rifled through pamphlets about fixing that huge beak of his because he isn’t really using it to break nuts and seeds over here. And Alice has definitely thought about getting an eye-deslanting.”

“Screw you Drew, that’s racist,” Alice Miyazawa scoffed, as Cecil suddenly turned to Lou Ellen who gave him an apologetic look in return.

“Self-hating Asians oughtta stick together,” Drew retorted with a shrug.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true, Drew. I mean, sure, everyone has insecurities, but it’s also good to try to embrace them,” Will told Drew as he placed a hand on Alice's shoulder to keep the girl from giving Drew a probably well-earned knuckle sandwich.

“Oh please, Solace, you’ve got a weird spiral belly button. You could frost it and pass it off as a cinnamon bun,” Drew said with a roll of her eyes, Nico had to cover the laugh of surprise that came out of him with his hand, and Will gave him a long-suffering look. “I’m just saying, there’s this thing called plastic surgery. It’s science. And if you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see and also have the means, you should go for it. If you don’t want to, don’t. Simple as that. Passing judgment is so un-hot, and who knows? Maybe Jason will wake up from general anesthesia and realize who the hotter child of Aphrodite that he could be with is. Either way, what people do or do not decide to do with their bodies is no one else’s choice,” Drew said before with a final hair flip and sway of hip, Drew was off to terrorize another section of camp. With Hurricane Drew now over, the campers who had gathered dispersed to mutter amongst themselves, Sherman and Ellis and Butch grabbed Clovis by his appendages and dragging him off the field as he slept talk about Great White Sharks, macaroons, and a tennis racket.

“I hate that girl with a fiery passion, but by all the Gods she’s a freaking insult-genius,” Lou Ellen said with a sort of strange awe.

“And she really loves what she does,” Cecil said just as quietly. “She has a gift.”

“Yeah she’s something alright,” Will noted before looking to Nico with an almost shy grin, bumping his shoulder against Nico’s. “Hey there, long time no see.”

“Oh yuck, mushy feelings. We’re out,” Lou Ellen called as she and Cecil made kissy faces at Nico and Will before also walking off.

“How’s the infirmary?” Nico asked him as they began to walk, he tried to pat his hair down absently.

“Not so busy, were you really busy? You look like you just rolled out of bed,” Will noted and Nico sighed heavily.

“I desperately need a haircut,” Nico groaned, twisting a lock of hair around his fingers and trying to get it out of his eyes.

“Well, why don’t I at least get you a hair tie? Kayla keeps a whole bunch on the desk,” Will offered.

They walked to Apollo Cabin in companionable silence, when they got there Nico sat down on the bed as Will grabbed one of Kayla’s dark hair ties from her desk and his own brush. Kayla and Austin were spending their free period helping Nyssa and Harley with some new target practice gadget, so for once in a long time Cabin Seven was quiet.

“My hair’s pretty thick,” Nico warned him as well approached with a few things in hand, a brush among them.

“I’ve got some spray in stuff,” Will offered, holding up a very suspicious slender bottle filled with what Nico would have assumed was a cream based dessert.

“Isn’t that Aphrodite stuff?”

“Personal grooming is not just an Aphrodite Cabin thing,” Will scoffed and Nico resisted making a son-of-Apollo-joke before Nico allowed him to do whatever he was planning on by motioning to the spot next to him, and he couldn’t help but sigh as Will’s fingers ran through his hair. “You have really nice hair though.”

“It’s so dratted thick,” Nico scoffed, tugging at a renegade curl. “And it curls weirdly. I was thinking of maybe shaving it.”

“Really?” Will asked and Nico felt the gentle tug of the brush through his hair.

“Yeah, when my dad first gave me my card I tried to go to the hair dresser’s, but when they were shampooing my head and they started rubbing my scalp and stuff I really couldn’t take it. I almost kicked the lady in the leg,” Nico admitted awkwardly with a shudder at both the memory and how nice whatever Will was doing felt. “I’ve been trimming it myself ever since, I sort of forgot to though.”

“That sounds like you,” Will laughed, and Nico could almost hear Will’s smile. That was the nice thing about Will’s voice, it didn’t hide anything, it was pure and genuine. “You aren’t a huge fan of other people touching you, are you?”

“It’s hard when you don’t know them,” Nico groaned. “I’m normally fine when it’s people I don’t hate. You’re just too laid back.”

“Maybe,” Will chuckled good-naturedly and Nico leaned his head back so he could see Will’s bright and slightly sheepish smile. “Hazard of the healing arts. I’ve gotten used to people touching me out of the blue because I heal them. I think your hesitance is one of your cute features anyways.”

“You’re a weirdo,” Nico said with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re the one dating a weirdo, what does that say about you?” Will asked, and with gentle fingers his pulled the hair that was about his neck up into a tie. Immediately, Nico felt his warm lips press against the back of his neck, making Nico jump slightly at the unexpected sensation. Will immediately moved back, but Nico grasped his arm and kept him close.

“I know things have been awkward since…since last time,” Nico said quietly. “But I want you to touch me, I do.”

“But you…you really hated it,” Will nearly whined, sitting back on his heels. “Honestly, I’m fine being on the bottom for the rest of my life if it makes you so uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t hate it, I just froze,” Nico corrected him, before sighing heavily. “I’m…there’s a thing about me I wish I could change I guess.”

“If you want to talk about it I’m open ears?” Will asked, and didn’t push. There was no trace of judgment in his features, and somehow that made Nico feel even more desolate.

“I just…I’m always worried I’m being selfish.”

“Nico, you are the most unselfish person I know,” Will said, eyes wide with shock, as he sat back on his heels thoughtfully. “I mean, holy Hera, you almost killed yourself for your friends and everyone else. You are constantly putting other people before yourself.”

“I…” Nico tried to begin to explain, but just shook his head. “It’s just hard for me is all. Sometimes I feel like I don’t see you as much as I want to, but I know you’re busy. And then when I do see you, I’m uncooperative.”

Will was quiet for a moment, before he felt Will’s hands slip beneath his shirt, Will’s mouth tenderly pressing against the back of his neck. Nico gasped as Will’s fingers brushed against his nipple.

“Nico, this doesn’t feel uncooperative. This feels sensitive,” Will sighed as he continue to tease with loving mouth and hands in a way that made all of Nico’s blood travel south. “And I would never want you to change that. So what if it takes a bit for you to get used to my touch? The fact I get to touch you at all makes me happy and then you make these noises that turn me on so much.”

“Greedy asshole,” Nico snarked, turning to meet Will’s lips, opening his mouth so he could pull Will in deeper. Nico reached over to palm the very obvious heaviness in Will’s great sweatpants and smiled against Will’s lips. “Someone else is pretty sensitive too.”

“Oh, yes, sometimes it’s good to be selfish,” Will told Nico with a sweet look that could have melted Nico, and Nico lay down and let Will lay his body on top, reveling in the delicious weight. “Especially when you have someone like me who could be happy spoiling you for the rest of your life. But please, give me a head’s up? I’m not a mind-reader so I appreciate specific directions.”

“I can be pretty demanding,” Nico said somewhat weakly, reaching up to trace Will’s cheek. “If you give me a little bit, I’ll just want more.”

“And I can be pretty stubborn, anything you want, I’ll be happy to give you,” Will promised him. “Just let me, Nico. Tell what you want.”

“Can we try…again?” Nico asked, but his words stopped as Will caught his hand and kissed it, perking up immediately as Nico’s gaze drifted over to the left.

“Of course,” Will asked him and Nico nodded and reached over to the bedside table Nico had been eyeing and opened up the drawer.

“How should I…um?” Nico asked him and Will shrugged.

“Do whatever you think will make you the most comfortable,” Will said as he unscrewed the bottle and almost doused his fingers in it, warming the lube between his fingers.

“Alright,” Nico said, laying down on his stomach, helping Will place a pillow beneath his hips.

“You can be selfish with me, Nico,” Will promised him as he kissed Nico’s neck and shoulder comfortingly, and Nico shuddered as he felt Will’s fingers gently rub against his entrance. Nico couldn’t understand why it felt so good, his whole body jolted as Will’s slick finger slid inside, the intrusion not entirely pleasant or unpleasant as he moved it. “Relax, as much as you can.”

“It feels…weird…!” Nico admitted between clenched teeth, forcing his body to remain relaxed despite what urges he felt. He wanted to try this, Nico reminded himself.

“Does it hurt?” Will asked worriedly and Nico shook his head. “Here, I’m going to add another one. Try to stay as loose as you can, alright?”

Nico nodded and gripped the pillow, just as a second finger pressed inside of him with the help of ample lube. Nico fought and lost against the desire to clamp down, and his lack of control over his body’s reaction was damn near infuriating to him. As if sensing this by Nico’s stiff-lipped reaction Will reached down to slide his hand along Nico’s length, which had softened considerably at the previous activities. The smooth, almost comforting sensation of Will’s hand on him, and the gentle probing finally got Nico to relax.

“It’s okay, Nico. You’re doing so good right now,” Will promised as he kissed Nico’s back.

“Ugh…this feels so bizarre,” Nico couldn’t help but groan as he turned his head and gave Will a look.

“Does it hurt?” Will asked as his fingers continued to move inside Nico, and with him massaging and rubbing him on the inside and outside, a thankful sigh escaped Nico’s mouth. It was beginning to feel vaguely pleasant now, and he naturally relaxed against Will’s touch.

“Trust me, you would know if it hurt,” Nico promised him. He could do this, Nico thought very rationally. It certainly didn’t feel bad, and judging by the hooded expression and the evidence of Will’s desire pressed against his thigh, if Will wanted to do this then—

Suddenly Will found something inside of Nico that made him surge with pleasure, and his breath caught harshly in his throat. Will’s fingers hit it again more adamantly and Nico moaned into the sheets as he pressed back against Will’s fingers as he searched against for that feeling.

“There!” Nico moaned demandingly. “Oh Gods, is that what I hit in you? Oh—that feels so good.”

“Nico, allow me to introduce you to your prostate,” Will chuckled good-naturedly, as close as they were Nico could feel that rumble in Will’s belly, and it made Nico’s face get hotter.

“Don’t be a dork,” Nico groaned. “Just do whatever you just did again.”

“Alright then, needy,” Will teased, as Will’s fingers continued to scissor and rub and hit the plac inside of him that felt so good that Nico’s vision swam. His cock ached with desire, and Will removed his hand to grab the bottle and add a third very slick finger inside and Nico felt so full and so good that he couldn’t think straight. He wanted—needed more.

“I want you inside,” Nico blurted out, his hand reaching blindly and clamping on Will’s wrist. “Will, I want to feel you on the inside.”

“Shit!” Will said sharply, and Nico stared at him in concern. Will answered it with a delightfully embarrassed expression. “Sorry, that was—that was just really sexy, like whoa.”

“Um…sorry?” Nico said, feeling himself blush hard because had those words really come out of his mouth? He couldn’t believe it himself.

“Don’t be sorry, I feel like I deserve a pat on the back,” Will said with a wide smile that Nico returned before turning, hooking Will’s hips with his legs, and pulling Will down on top of him. Both of them laughed into their mouths as they kissed with more intensity, Will fumbling with the foil on the condom. He rolled it on and slicked it with lube, before reaching back to Nico with newly spread fingers.

“No, I don’t need anymore more,” Nico complained half-heartedly, but spread his legs as Will’s fingers sank inside of him with relative ease. Oh Gods, Nico thought before his thoughts went fuzzy as Will crooked a finger and found a weak spot that had his jaw hanging open. He could get addicted to this, and now he totally got why Will was totally into this.

“We have to make sure it doesn’t hurt, don’t we?” Will teased as he kissed Nico’s neck.

“Just put it inside me,” Nico half-begged, half-growled.

“Are you ready? You sure?”

“Yes,” Nico agreed, his head nodding vigorously.

“Alright then, your wish it my command,” Will chuckled, and Nico felt him line up and slid inside.

They both moaned, the sensation was intense to say the least. There was the barest twinge of discomfort, but he had been so thoroughly prepared that it disappeared quickly as Will seated himself fully inside. What mattered most was the divine sensation that was making him tremble.

“Oh Will,” Nico gasped breathlessly, wrapping his legs around Will’s hips as Will trembled. “I can feel you.”

“I feel you too,” Will moaned, his eyes fluttered, and Nico couldn’t help but find his expression to be utterly adorable. “Oh gods you are so perfect, Nico. I love you so much.”

“Yeah? Does it feel good?” Nico asked, unable to stop himself from smiling an odd grin as Will nodded desperately. “You can move, Will. I want you too. If it hurts I’ll tell you, I promise.”

“You promise?” Will asked, faking being very obviously suspicious.

“You’ll be the first to know, scout’s honor,” Nico said making a Live-Long-and Prosper sign with his hands. Will laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to Nico’s forehead.

Will began to move in gentle controlled thrusts, Nico suspected it was half for him and half to keep Will from coming. But he couldn’t help but enjoy and be frustrated by the movements in equal measure because while it didn’t hurt, Will’s broad shoulders and larger chest was making Nico feel oddly caged. Finally, Nico pressed up on Will’s shoulder’s.

“Will, I can’t breathe,” Nico told him between kisses. “Maybe change position?”

“Yeah, uh, what do you want to…?” Will asked with a hitched breath as he pulled up, Nico let Will sit himself against the headboard and settled himself firmly on Will’s lap. “Better?”

“Yeah, I can—oh,” Nico groaned as he latched onto Will, arms wrapped around Will’s back. In this position he could feel Will’s length, pressing in deep and filling him. Will bent down and their mouths melted against each other, and they rocked together, slightly unsteady as they worked together to find the perfect angle, or when Will reached down to grasp him, or Nico bucked up unexpectedly as Will once again struck his prostrate. Finally something was building up, white hot pleasure that Nico almost wished could keep building inside of him forever so he could keep burning with it, but it couldn’t happen. Nico moaned into Will’s mouth and felt himself come into Will’s hand. Will continued to move for a moment or two, thrusts uneven, and Nico felt a pulsing inside as Will came into the condom.

Nico lay down as Will removed the condom and threw it out, falling back on the bed with an exhausted huff.

“So what did you think?” Will asked, as they both tried to catch their breath and curling his arms around the pillow in front of him. Nico normally would have chastised him for getting sweat all over his pillows, but with Will stretched out looking so content and with those golden arms of his Nico just couldn’t fault him. Instead Nico grabbed the nearly empty lube bottle and held it up with a crook of his brow.

“Are you kidding?”

“What, you were totally into it and you were super hot and it helped, you’ll be thanking me when that wow-that-seat-was-uncomfortable ache doesn’t turn into a holy-shit-was-I-hit-by-a-train ache,” Will told him as he gave Nico a grin and a thumb’s up as he placed the bottle on the bed side table.

“You are insufferable did you know that,” Nico sighed as he turned over to kiss Will’s shoulder and give his back an absent scratch, which had Will sighing in pleasure. “But yeah, that was pretty hot.”

“Mm, I must have done something right for you to be so good to me,” Will said as he turned his head to look at Nico, eyes a deep hazy blue, a warm grin glinting across his teeth.

“You are an idiot,” Nico sighed as he leaned down to kiss him. “But you are also disgustingly sweet.”

“Don’t say it like a compliment or I’ll believe you like me or something,” Will teased as he pushed up to meet Nico’s mouth again.

“How embarrassing that would be,” Nico murmured between brushes of lips. “It was good, Will.”

“I’m totally down if you want to torture me with those sexy pianist fingers next,” Will told him, and Nico honestly couldn’t tell if he was being serious or joking. “I have more lube in my cabin—“

“Will, seriously—?“

Nico sat down to get his hair cut by Mitchell, and could see Drew smirk at him from the corner of his eye. Nico immediately flipped her off.

Just another day at CHB.

#Solangelo #Solangelo fanfic #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #pjo fanfic

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